Reaping Destiny
by ShoredKafka
Summary: Foolish humans, thinking to draw this soldier back to the realm of the living. Death does not allow souls to slip so easily from its grasp. But perhaps there is a way for all goals to be met. The Reapers presume to take my work upon themselves. I cannot teach them the error of their ways personally. It is time for my master to walk the mortal lands once more. MOD!Harry.
1. Prologue - Death Comes Calling

**I've had an idea for a HP/ME crossover for quite some time now. But since I already have another story that's garnered some good interest, ****whether or not I continue this story will depend on the response I get**_**. **_**So if you like it, drop me a review and let me know. I'll be considering the usual story stats to see how the response is.**

**Combining two worlds will always produce some confusing areas, especially when one is magical and the other is very science driven. I'll try my best to integrate the two, but I don't think anyone could make that integration absolutely seamless.**

**This won't be the same as canon Mass Effect (duh) so expect changes in the story. When you feel the urge to type out "Actually, that's not how it happened", think about whether the change was intentional or a mistake.**

**And yeah, I know I have this weird obsession with bodies changing souls like clothes. So sue me. It interests me as a plot idea.**

**Without further ado, my latest brainchild.**

* * *

All sentient beings think that death comes for them at some point in their life. That the arrival of death means the end of their mortal life. That the absence of the presence of death is the time you have to live, to love, to fight, and to learn. But they are all wrong.

Death stands besides you the moment you are born. It holds your hand while you try to walk. It stands by you while you live your life the way you see fit, always observing, always silent. And when your time is up, for the first time in your life, death reveals itself to you and tells you that you have never, ever stood alone, even in your darkest moments.

"SHEPARD!" yelled Joker even as he activated the escape pod in the cockpit of the Normandy, moments before another explosion propelled him far away from the pod. He sighed in relief as he saw the pod eject and begin its downwards trajectory to the nearby planet.

_Now, how do I-_ was as far as he was able to get, before another chain of explosions were set off, making him cry in out in pain as dozens of metal shards pierced his suit, even as the force propelled him out of the Normandy and into space. He swore as he took quick, shallow breaths, determined not to lose consciousness because of the trauma.

It took him a few seconds to realize that his oxygen was running out, and fast. He moved his hands to the cable at the back of his armor, ignoring the screams of protest his body gave him as the metal dug even deeper into his body.

_Shit! There are too many leaks to even try to plug. What next? What next? Can I use a biotic field to contain the oxygen? No, that won't work. Damn it! Damn it! Not like this…_

Now he took deep breaths, determined to keep himself alive as long as he could. He watched as the Normandy fell apart - watched as the ship that had practically become his home tore itself apart as explosion after explosion was set off. He would only be able to breathe a few more times before he was deprived of oxygen entirely.

Gasp.

He watched as the unknown enemy ship began moving once again, having decided that its task was done. Within seconds, it was gone, entering FTL speed at an accelerated pace.

Gasp.

He felt himself turning slowly, pulled into the orbit of the nearby planet.

_Beautiful_ he noted, a strange detachment coming over him even as cold began to creep over his body, signifying that his end was close. He shut his eyes, deciding that the magnificent view he had just seen was enough to serve as his last memory of the world.

**Shepard.**

His eyes snapped open violently as he heard a strange voice call to him, as from within his own mind.

His disbelief grew as he processed the sight that greeted him - A figure stood in front of him, shrouded completely in a black cloak, with a hood that hid its face from view. Raven-black wings protruded from the back of the figure, fully extended. A bone white hand grasped a scythe in its hand. The figure itself seemed to be look at him, though it was hard to tell without seeing its face.

_Great, a hallucination. And my mind chose the grim reaper. How...ironic_ whispered the sardonic part of his mind.

Gasp.

**You have breathed your last, brave soldier.**

_Who are you?_ he asked, even as his mind began to shut down, his vision blurring even as his body began to convulse as his lungs desperately sought air. Soon, it was thrashing around desperately, uncontrollably, as his body fought to stay alive. He felt his eyes close, and knew he would not have the strength to open them again.

**I am the point where all mortal paths end.**

And then he knew no more.

* * *

It would be a long time before the first Systems Alliance cruiser would arrive at the scene, where pieces of the Normandy still hung in space like a macabre mechanical skeleton. The fires had long since subsided, and most of the ship had now crashed into the nearby planet.

By then, the survivors of the pod had grouped together, and Liara T'Soni and Ashley Williams did all in their power to safeguard every single crew member of the Normandy that they could find. They would activate an emergency beacon near where most of the survivors were gathered, and the alliance would find them and take them to safety.

None of the search parties could find Shepard's remains anywhere near the crash sites of the crew. Without knowing the trajectory the body had taken, the search teams did not meet with any success. Unable to comb through an entire planet, the search was soon called off.

But the forces shrouded in shadows had already begun to move, as soon as an 'encrypted' alliance message was sent out to the Council and Earth, informing them of Commander Shepard's demise. These forces were highly capable, and had virtually unlimited resources. The body would not remain unfound for long.

From the darkness he was first aware of the sound of a starship's engine. That deep, reverberating, comforting sound that let its inhabitants know that all was well. He was at peace, as if he were lying in his quarters aboard the Normandy, listening to the ship as its soared through space. He had cherished those rare moments when he had no missions to carry out, and could let his mind wander as he pleased.

* * *

**Shepard.**

The voice reverberated through his mind once more, making his mind snap away from nostalgia, and to his present. Where was he? Hadn't he died? And then he remembered. Vision. He had to open his eyes.

Colors swam into focus as he did so, and he realized he was lying on the ground of what appeared to be one of Alliance docks.

_What am I doing here?_ he wondered, looking around the docks. It was completely empty, save for him, and only one spaceship was docked there, engines humming to indicate that it was prepped and ready for flight. So much of his life had been spent at hangar bays that looked just like this one, as they had been one of the rare times he could interact with a civilian population. Sometimes in very..._interesting_ ways.

There was a rustle of movement behind him, and he whirled around, hand going to where his pistol would be holstered out of sheer reflex. He froze as he saw the same figure he had glimpsed before succumbbing to lack of oxygen.

Now it stood before him silently, wings resting instead of being fully spread. His eye kept going back to the scythe, the handle of which was entirely white, as was the blade that curved from the tip. The weapon was a stark contrast to the figure itself, which was entirely black, even the wings.

"Who are you?" he asked sharply, fighting the apprehension he was feeling. His heart was already telling him that there was only one possible explanation for this.

**Death.**

That single word sent him into shock again, even as he remembered the pain that had fired every nerve in his being as his body lost its life. He looked down at himself for the first time, and was more than surprised to see that he wasn't wearing his damaged hardsuit, but an Alliance fatigues uniforms.

"So...I'm dead?" he asked, dreading the inevitable reply that he knew was coming. But he had to know for sure. He had to.

**Yes.**

He had failed. He had sworn to himself to protect his crew. But so many had died when the Normandy had been attacked. He had sworn to himself that he would not let the reapers succeed. But now, without him pushing the council and the public, he knew all too well that all the races in the galaxy would be content to sit back and let the threat disappear from their minds.

_Until the fucking reapers actually attack, of course_ said the snide voice in his mind. On this occasion, he agreed wholeheartedly with it.

"Where am I now?" he asked uncertainly, wondering why heaven looked like an alliance space dock. If it was heaven. There was still the small part of his mind that insisted this whole thing was a hallucination. It was all so surreal, he wasn't sure he had even begun to process what had happened to him.

**Death cannot step to the beyond. You are at the crossroads.**

"The crossroads? You're talking about this dock?" he asked, bewildered.

**You see what is beloved to your heart.**

"So...it's a dock just because I'm here?" he asked again.

The figure merely nodded. Apparently Death wasn't the talkative type. As someone who had never believed in a religion or an afterlife, Shepard felt utterly helpless, as if this space was something outside of what he had believed all his life.

"What happens now?" He asked the question even though he already had a suspicion of what the answer would be.

Death pointed his-her-its? scythe at the spaceship, where the hatch already lay open.

He had never felt more conflicted than he had when he placed his first step towards the spacecraft. How could he walk away from the certain doom that the civilized species of his galaxy faced? The death toll would cross the trillions.

_No, I can't do this_ he swore and turned back to Death.

"I can't do this. I can't just walk away from what's are going to be lost by the millions!"

**Death is absolute.**

"There has to be something I can do to convince you! Please!"

Death said nothing, choosing to loss at him silently.

"You bastard!" he gritted, furious that Death seemed to be unfazed by the potential destruction of entire civilizations.

Again Death said nothing.

He clenched his fist. Instinct told him that any move he made to attack Death would end badly for him. His neck was drawn and his veins began to stand out as he tried to rein in his temper.

"Of course," he sneered bitterly, "You'll probably throw a party when that many souls come through. You're Death right? You must be loving this."

For a second, an incredible pressure weighed on him, forcing him to his knees. The figure had not even shifted, but he could tell that what he had just said had irritated it intensely.

"W-What was that?" he gasped, once the crushing feeling had faded.

**The reward that ignorance reaps.**

"Look," he said, hating himself for the beginning tone that crept into his voice, "I can't just ignore the fact that entire races are going to be annihilated. I'll give up anything for a chance at saving them. _Please._"

**You cannot negotiate with death.**

He sighed, the fight going out of him as he considered the insurmountable wall he was facing. He had overcome many things. His own demise could not be one of them. He turned away dejectedly.

**What are you willing to sacrifice?**

He turned in a blur, processing the question he had just been asked.

"Anything," he croaked out, thinking of all the loved ones that he had left behind.

**We shall see the extent of your resolve.**

Death tapped the ground once with its scythe.

The world around him began to crumble into nothing, and he fell into a darkness that seemed like it would never end.

* * *

"Miranda, we have a situation," the man said crisply after taking a drag on his cigarette. Miranda stood facing the window, and was surprised when she heard the tone of her boss' voice. It contained an edge that belied his calm appearance.

"Is it something to do with Shepard?" she guessed astutely, remembering how the Illusive Man had begun taking an interest in Shepard after the Saren incident. He had been highly impressed with how Shepard saved the Citadel at the expense of the Council. He had also been highly disappointed when the new human-led council had proved as ineffectual in acting on the Reaper threat as the old one.

"Yes, the Council sent him on a mission to investigate some suspicious activity, claiming it could be the geth."

"Geth," she voiced distastefully, "Even if the activity did turn out to be geth, we know they're nothing but pawns. The idiots on the Council would sit back and see us all destroyed."

"There has been another complication," cut in the Illusive Man, his eyes glowing eerily as he continued to read off the many screens surrounding him.

"Shortly after the Normandy reached the area they were to investigate, an unknown spaceship opened fire on it."

Her eyes widened slightly, "But that's impossible. Our sources tell us the Normandy had a stealth system that was unparalleled. Not even geth technology could have detected them."

"Yes. No technology we know of could have done this," asserted the Illusive Man cryptically.

"They've begun moving again, haven't they?" asked Miranda, though it was more like she was asking herself.

"It gets worse," the Illusive Man called up an audio file that bore the marks of an Alliance transmission

"_-with no way of telling where the Commander's body could have fallen, and given Flight Lieutenant Moreau's testimony, we have no choice but to presume Commander Shepard dead-"_

Here he paused the audio log and waited silently for her to process what she had just heard.

"He's dead," she she repeated, shocked by the turn of events, "Shepard was supposed to be the rallying point for humanity and the entire galaxy as well. Without him-"

"There is no scenario without him," said her boss sharply, and she recognized that he had already decided on a course of action.

"You have a mission for me?"

"Cerberus has secured the services of Dr. T'Soni, and I'm confident she'll find the body where the Alliance failed. Your instructions are in this file."

He snapped his fingers, and an aide stepped out of the shadows to hand her a file. She read the name of the file out loud.

"Project Lazarus."

* * *

Shepard thought he had seen it all when the crossroads of death had looked like an alliance docking bay. But today, it seemed, was all about proving him wrong. After what had seemed like ages, he had stopped falling through nothingness by colliding, hard, with what looked to be a green meadow. He had not been hurt by the fall, surprisingly, though he assumed it was because Death controlled this space.

Groaning, he picked himself up, unhurt but also disoriented from falling for so long. His eyes widened when he saw that he was near what looked like a stone castle, with a meadow and a large lake nearby. He was standing near the lake now, eyes scanning his surroundings keenly. He knew this place meant something important, as Death had talked about him being tested.

The place was completely deserted, or so he thought, until he saw what appeared to be a person, sitting near the shore of the lake at a considerable distance. He began to walk towards the person cautiously, unsure of what to expect. When he was closer, he was able to make out that it was a dark-haired man, who looked to be in his twenties.

He tensed again as the young man glanced in his direction, revealing startlingly green eyes as he did so. The young man did nothing but turn back to the lake, however, as if dismissing his presence. Soon, he had neared the young man, slowly lowering his guard as he realized that the young man really had no interest in him. He stood next to the man, wondering what was to happen.

"Did that old bastard send you here?" the young man asked suddenly, making him blink with surprise. _Did he just call Death an old bastard?_

His accent was distinctly British, that much he could tell even though he had been a spacer. A lot of Earth-borns joined the Alliance, and a few of the soldiers he had served with had spoken with a similar accent.

"Do you mean Death?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, or as I like to call him, the old bastard," replied the green eyed man noncommittally, as if he were talking about the weather, "Well, as long as you're here, you might as well sit down. Name's Harry."

"Uh. Hello Harry. I'm John," he muttered before sitting on the grass _This day is getting weirder by the minute._

"So, what are you doing hanging about in the crossroad? Last I heard, this place wasn't a tourist attraction."

_Says the man sitting on a meadow in front of a scenic lake?_ he snorted internally, the scenery around him putting him at ease slowly.

"I...I can't pass on. Not when I was fighting against a threat that could take millions of lives," he said slowly as he looked at the lake. It was hard to explain the feeling of commitment he had. Sometimes, even he didn't quite understand it.

"Great. Another one with a hero complex," he heard Harry mutter in a low voice. He had a feeling Harry had been speaking to himself, more than anyone. He fought to suppress the surge of irritation he felt.

"So for what reason are you in the crossroads?" he asked, curious to know the story behind this Harry.

"Just popped in for some peace and quiet. Not sure how long it's been," Harry replied in a monotone, as if he didn't really care.

"You…'popped' into the crossroads of life and death for a vacation?" he asked disbelievingly, not sure if he was being lied to or not.

"Sure. You find out how disgusting humanity really is when you've been around them long enough," Harry said offhandedly, "All the backstabbing, envy, and general hostility. Oh, they keep those emotions hidden when they need your help of course. 'Defeat this Dark Lord' or 'Put down that dangerous beast.' It gets tiring after a while."

"Wait, you walked away from people who needed your help?" now the anger was back. It was irrational, moralistic anger, he knew. He even knew that he agreed with many of the sentiments expressed. But he had never let those sentiments sway him from what needed to be done.

"Yes," was the simple and uncaring reply he got.

Shepard scoffed slightly as he turned away from Harry, not trusting himself to keep calm if he made any more small talk.

"You seem upset," came Harry's voice, and it carried with it a hint of amusement.

"Oh no, why on Earth would I be upset?" he snapped back sarcastically, "Here I am, _begging _Death for a chance to go back and save billions of people, and I find out you _can_ go back and won't. No, I'm fucking _delighted_ about this mess."

A powerful force slammed into his side, propelling him so hard that his body was battered and thrown along the ground for nearly fifty feet, tearing up chunks of grass and earth along the way.

_What. The. Fuck!_ he screamed internally as he threw himself behind the cover of a rock as soon as he stopped. Just as before, when he had fallen into this location, his body was completely undamaged, but he was utterly winded, his body racking as he drew long, painful breaths.

"**Come out and play, you little worm,"** thundered a voice he recognized as Harry's and he realized Harry had been the one to attack him. But what could possess so much power? Even a powerful biotic would be unable to launch such a vicious attack with no warning.

"Fuck. Alright. Stick to cover. Trees are no good, he can certainly blow them apart. I can stick to rocks. There are certainly enough of them. But what I can I attack with?"

He held out his hand, praying that he still had his biotics. He was relieved when the customary blue sheen made itself known, the power thrumming comfortably through his entire body. Good. He wasn't completely helpless. A small part of him wondered how amps could function in this weird region, but he crushed that side ruthlessly now was not the time.

"**Alright then, if you won't come out, I'll just make you!"**

Shepard's eyes widened in disbelief as the lazy white clouds in the sky suddenly turned a thunderous grey. He threw himself away from where he was, allowing the roll to carry him as far as possible. It was not a moment too soon.

A powerful bolt of lightning struck the boulder he had been hiding behind, utterly shattering it. The wave of force that accompanied it nearly made him lose his balance.

_What IS he?_ yelled his inner voice. He had come across far greater power, of course, but always through machines and contraptions. And yet here was a man who could seemingly throw that power around almost casually.

_You're the idiot for thinking an ordinary guy would be wandering around a place like this _the snide voice in his mind hastened to add.

He flexed his right hand, his neurons sending a particular pattern of activity almost immediately, which his amps picked up on. A glimmering, transparent layer of energy surrounded him.

_That should take a hit or two_ he decided before scrambling out of his current hiding spot.

Another powerful blast rocked the area behind him, and he found his previous shelter utterly destroyed.

_He's toying with me. The bastard's missing on purpose!_ he realized, and rage filled his mind. Nobody toyed with him, not even Sovereign.

He surged forward swiftly, taking full advantage of the terrain. The lightning had stopped now, and Harry seemed content to watch him draw closer and closer. He snarled and thrust his hands out. A condensed mass of blue energy streaked out of his hand, moving towards the Britisher with deadly force. The ground itself was torn apart by the force.

_They tell me I have one mean biotic throw_ he thought satisfiedly as Harry was struck forcefully by the attack, sending dust and debris flying forcefully from the point where Harry stood.

"Are you trying to make me sneeze?" came an amused voice, though its owner was still shrouded by the haze of dust that his attack had stirred up.

He cursed and threw out his hand once more, this time aiming for a Singularity. A powerful wave of force sprang into being near Harry, drawing in everything in a four foot radius to itself. The dark haired man seemed to do little to resist the pull of the force, and was now floating above the core, looking vaguely amused by the whole experience.

"This is fun! You should come around more often John. Very intriguing powers you have. An attack that mimics the Earth's core?"

"Oh you'll have even more fun with this!" he snarled in response before snapping his fingers _Warp!_

Tiny mass effect fields responded to his amps, tearing into the green eyed man viciously. This was a lethal combo that even krogan warlords could not walk away from. And those bastards could walk away from almost anything. Wrex was case and point.

His victorious grin was ruined when Harry spoke again, his voice showing no strain that he was under attack.

"Interesting. This attack is trying to convince my structure to destabilize. It's almost like it's encouraging decomposition. Color me impressed, John."

Harry clapped his hands together and a thunderous boom was heard. He was shocked to find both the Singularity and the Warp dispelled as Harry landed on his feet once more. In less than a second, Harry had covered the distance between them, green eyes glowing with power as they bored into his head.

He swore and launched the most vicious uppercut he could master, only for Harry to grab his hand and _squeeze. _The biotic barrier he had activated was smothered out like a candle flame, and he bit back a scream of pain as he felt his fist get crushed viciously.

"Playtime's over now, John," Harry spoke serenely, as if he were watching the sun set, and not crushing a man's fist.

"You started it, I'll damn well finish it," he spat out before headbutting Harry. The blow connected in a most satisfying way, and he found his hand being dropped. Too late, he realized that bodies couldn't actually be damaged here, and what he'd felt was only the sensation of his hand being crushed. His actual hand was as undamaged as ever.

He felt himself being slammed against the ground as an oppressive pressure filled the air. Every nerve in his body screamed of imminent danger as the very air seemed to grow heavy. Harry's eyes flashed angrily as he gazed coldly down at him.

"Enough."

That single word held more authority than all his previous words put together. But he would never give up on a fight. He exhaled painfully, forcing his body into submission and into his control. He raised himself shakily onto one knee, readying himself to attack again.

"Tch tch. Stubbornness will get you killed."

The pressure intensified, forcing him back on the ground again. He hit the ground face-down this time, and swore internally.

_No. Not yet._

He moved his arm painfully and activated his biotics once again, sending a strong wave of energy at the ground itself. The force of the blast threw him a few feet off the ground, making Harry jerk back in surprise. His hand glowed blue again as he readied his next attack, determined to land a few significant blows on the dark haired man.

A hand covered in a green aura grabbed his face while he was still in mid-air, disrupting his concentration and forcing him to abandon his attack. He sighed defeatedly and allowed his body to relax, resigning himself to the fact that in death he would always find defeat.

"Why were you so persistent? You must have known you didn't stand a chance," asked Harry curiously, still holding him up in the air.

"Death said this was a test," he slurred, his voice distorted by the hand that held his face. The hand dropped him, and he fell to the ground. He sat up tiredly, looking at the calm waters of the lake before continuing.

"I...I was hoping that if I beat you, Death would help me go back and finish my mission."

"Your mission means so much to you? Faceless and nameless people that you might never meet in your lifetime?"

"They're still lives," he snarled, "And I have friends, family. I _never_ want to see them die. Not while I still draw breath."

"Yes...you drawing breath is a bit of a metaphor at the moment, you know," Harry replied with the same detached amusement, though a new emotion now shone in his eyes. The dark haired man looked at the lake for a few seconds, before sighing and speaking into seemingly empty air.

"You can come out now you meddling bastard. I know this is what you wanted."

**You have decided, then?**

The very air next to Harry rippled, and Death materialized as if it had been standing there all along. There was something almost..._human_ about the way the entity spoke to Harry. Was it happiness he detected in its voice? No. It couldn't be.

"Of course I've decided. It's like I'm looking into a naive, obnoxious, stubborn younger version of myself," snorted Harry in a resigned tone.

He felt the need to re-introduce himself into the conversation.

"Wait, you'll help? You'll allow me to go back?" he asked hopefully.

**No.**

His hopes plummeted seconds after they had been raised, leaving him dumbstruck. What help were they talking about then? Harry seemed to take pity on him, for he looked at Death and said, "Lay out your master plan already. How am I going to help?"

Death merely raised its scythe and tapped the ground again.

_Oh f-_ was all he had time to think before their surroundings crumbled away once more, sending him spiraling into darkness once more.

* * *

"Let me see if I understand this," he began incredulously, looking at Death, who seemed unfazed as ever. They were back to the docks now, and he could not believe what he had just heard. He had found himself in an afterlife he never believed in, he had watched a man call lightning from the skies, and he still could not process what he had just heard.

"You want to send Harry back."

Death nodded.

"But not as himself. You want to send him back to _my body._"

"And why can't you just send me back?" he asked, disbelief etched into every fibre of his face. Harry seemed indifferent to the entire conversation, and was busy looking around the docks.

"Humanity's come far if this is what they have instead of a railway station," he commented idly.

"Yeah, they ha- That's not the point!"

Harry sighed before rolling his eyes. He gestured to their surroundings.

"Who do you think controls our surroundings, John?"

He was stumped by the sudden turn in the conversation, but Harry did not seem to be one for idle chit chat, so he took the question seriously.

"I'm guessing Death is?"

"Right," nodded Harry, speaking at a sedate pace, "You need to realize this. The ground you're standing on. The colors you're seeing. The air you're breathing. Every single one of your senses function according to his will."

"Okay, where's this headed?" he asked, still seeing no connection.

"Do you truly believe that the way you sense time is in your control as well?" Harry asked quietly.

His eyes widened as he tried to grasp the enormity of what he had just been told, "But I can't have been here for more than a few hours! That's impossible!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and today has been all about what?"

He nodded, conceding the point. It made sense that Death held absolute power over the crossroads. Anything made sense at this point. Did someone want to tell him that ants were the overlords? He would believe them now, he really would.

"So...how long have I been here exactly?"

"Hard to say. There's no constancy here. Sometimes, a thousand years in the living world can be one second here."

His heart constricted at the thought. The reapers could already have killed all his friends, along with every single advanced civilization in the galaxy? Heck, the next order of races could already have established themselves!

"And sometimes, what feels like eternity in here could be less than a second in the living world."

_Oh God that I don't believe in, please please let it be option 2._

"Well, how long _has_ it been?" Harry asked Death curiously.

**By your reckoning, almost two years Master.**

_Of course it's secret option number 3. Life shits on me in death as it did in life_ he groaned internally. Still, it was better than nothing. His cycle could still be saved.

"When a soul has been in the crossroads for a certain period of time, it can't go back to the living world. The repercussion are...unpleasant," explained Harry.

"Then what about you?" he asked challengingly, "You've obviously been here a lot longer than me."

"I'm...different," was the quiet reply. Emerald eyes sparked as they warned him off the subject. He let it drop, though he was extremely curious.

"So that's your offer? You send him in my place to complete my mission?" he asked Death.

**Yes. Your body, his soul. A fair trade.**

"Funnily enough, I don't see what's fair about it," he snorted half-heartedly. He already knew what his answer was going to be, but that didn't mean he had to take it lying down.

"How many people do you think try tonegotiate with Death?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"Almost everyone, I guess" he replied, wincing.

"You're being offered a compromise, of sorts. I would take it, boyo," remarked Harry cheerfully.

He looked at Harry with eyes as sharp as the edge of a knife, "Swear to me that you will complete my task."

Harry met his eyes with calm green ones, "I promise to give it my all. I know nothing about your situation, how can I offer greater certainty than that?"

It would have to do. His eyes flicked over the waiting spaceship yet again, feeling heavy and yet oddly light at the same time. He had carried his task for what felt like decades, and to be rid of it was just...odd. Harry was powerful, of that there was no doubt. He would just have to take a leap of faith. And he had taken so many of those in his life.

"You lived a full and honorable life, John. Go in peace," smiled Harry. It was the first time he had seen the odd Britisher smile.

He nodded firmly, realizing there was no use in delaying the inevitable. As he crossed the threshold of the spaceship, a blinding white light rushed to meet him. In that moment, he felt utter peace.

John Shepard left the crossroads with a smile on his face.

* * *

Harry watched as the spaceship disappeared, and the scenery reverted back to the tranquil lake. He had been at the crossroads for so long. He wondered just how much the world had changed. For the first time in centuries, he felt the speed of his heart raise, just a little.

"So?" he asked the entity next to him, "What was his problem? Maniac seeking power? Country in danger?"

**Bigger.**

"Half the Earth in danger?"

**Bigger.**

"All of Earth?" he asked hopefully. How could it possibly get any bigger?

**Entire galaxies, my Master.**

"Well, shit."

* * *

**Aaaand that's it. For a prologue, not a bad length at all. Naturally you'll have questions. Ask away, but realize that I'm hardly going to dump all the information on you in the prologue. I'll be covering explanations throughout the story whatever I left vague initially.**

**If you like it, let me know you do. A lukewarm response will mean I'll let this story sit while I complete the other one. A great response means I'll write both parallel-y. Yes, that's a word...now .**

**ShoredKafka.**


	2. Chapter 1 - Hell of a Wake-up Call

**Thank you so much for the response! 30+ reviews, 140+ followers - It made my day, it really did. If this is the kind of response I can come to expect, then I'm definitely going to try and write both of my stories in parallel. Reviews mean the most to me, so I hope you'll keep them coming. Meaningless flames will be deleted, but I assure you I'm happy to receive constructive criticism.**

**At the end of the chapter, I have some things I need reader input on. Potential pairings, etc… I'm planning on making this an interactive story ****in some areas**_**.**_** I love the fact that even I can potentially be surprised by where the story leads me. So if you want to see something, make sure you mention it. Don't remain silent now and complain about it later.**

**Wow, quite a few errors in the last chapter. I'm ashamed. But in my defense, it was midnight when I was done. I'll post an edited version soon.**

**I need a beta/co-writer. It would really help me speed up the writing of this story. If you're interested, PM me.**

**Rated T for language. Should it be rated M?**

* * *

"_**Commander Shepard has been recovered. The Lazarus Project will proceed as planned."**_

"I almost feel bad for them," Harry muttered as he looked around his surroundings in wonder, "I have no idea what any of these contraptions do, but I can imagine they probably cost a fortune. And they gave it such a cool codename too. Project Lazarus."

He and Death were standing in the room that held the body he was to occupy soon. It was all a bit of a culture shock for Harry, who had not been in the human world for centuries. And after the circumstances he had left the human world in, he had never wanted to return. His jaw clenched as his mind revisited old memories - memories he had wanted to bury beyond reach. It seemed that was now a lost cause.

**Presumptuous. To believe they hold the power to call back a soul from the realm of Death.**

"Humans are presumptuous. Color me surprised," drawled Harry in a shockingly accurate impression of Draco Malfoy. The blonde had been a pain in the ass, but there were a few lessons to be learned from him on how to show attitude, "I'm impressed that they've managed to figure out how to revive even the body. Even wizards weren't capable of that when I was still around."

**It may not be wise to hold on to benchmarks formed centuries ago.**

Harry shot an appreciative look at Death, "And they say Death never changes. I see some sarcasm rubbed off on you. It does wonders for your character, I have to say. Now if only newly dead souls could appreciate that sarcastic streak"

"You know, Padma was fascinated by the connection between the soul and the body. She researched on it for as long as she lived," he continued to talk idly as he watched a set of people scurry around John's body, readying various contraptions. An authoritative brunette woman barked out orders which the others scurried to obey. This was an efficient operation. And a secretive one, if the numbers were anything to go by.

Death said nothing. The body held no interest to it, and it knew all there was to know about the soul. Besides, Harry did not really expect a reply. He spoke mainly to pass the time until he could enter the body. He was speaking more now than he had in centuries put together - whatever time meant in the crossroads. But it appeared as if a significant amount of time had passed in the living world as well.

"She said that the choices your mind and soul make literally leaves its imprint on the body. Not just memories. The brain of an Auror would be physically different from the brain of a Death Eater. The differences would be beyond microscopic, but they would still be there."

He had thought that he had seen it all and done it all, and with good reason. But to possess a body that was not his - he supposed there were still a few firsts left to be experienced. He wondered how it would feel. He would possess memories, of that he was reasonably sure. The brain would still be Shepard's after all. But what of emotions? Pre-programmed reactions? Beliefs? If what Padma said was true - and she usually was - then he could not count on his mindset remaining the same. And that was a daunting prospect.

**It begins.**

His attention was drawn back to the mangled corpse. Apparently the preparatory stage was over. He watched rather bemusedly as all the humans stepped _away_ from the corpse and allowed machines to take over. Multiple robotic "arms" of sorts began to operate on him independently, embedding, injecting and removing various parts of the corpse. He watched as parts of the body were _sewn_ together using complex mechanical contraptions.

"Well I'll be damned. It finally happened," he said, his voice colored with amazement. Even muggles in his time had difficulty accepting the fact that machines could one day be so sophisticated. In the 1990s, machines were still dispensing candy and snacks and beverages.

_Those were quite delicious_ interjected the unhelpful part of his mind.

_Yes, they were. Now shut up._

His eyes widened as he saw a corpse being reanimated in front of his very eyes. Color returned to skin, and blood began to flow once more. The darkish hue that accompanied dead organs was fading, to be replaced with the red vitality that accompanied functioning organs.

**It is time.**

Harry sighed, casting one last apprehensive look over the body. He knew he was delaying the inevitable, but a few concerns still lingered in his mind.

"Won't magic disrupt all those devices they've placed in that body?"

**As I said, much has changed.**

"Does that mean they don't now turn electronics into a smoking heap of wires and metal? Death?"

He received no response, and he knew he wouldn't. _The bastard probably doesn't know the specifics himself. _

"Alright, let's get this over with."

* * *

Darkness faded away from his field of vision, giving him colors and shapes that were blurred and out of focus. He _felt_ again for the first time in centuries. He _felt_ the imperfect vision registering with a tangible brain, and the humdrum of distorted voices reverberated through his eardrums in a delicious manner that only a tangible body could produce.

And there was pain. _Pain._ He had forgotten how devastating it could feel. His breathing began to get shallow and labored as he realized just how much pain his body was in it. His body was protesting, stretching itself to its limits as it tried to cope with the sheer amount of stimuli it was feeling.

"_**He's reacting to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness of his surroundings."**_

_No shit. Now make the fucking pain stop._

But it was too late. Even as the world swam into sharper focus, he lost control over his body as the beeping noises around him increased in frequency. He couldn't hold on for mu-

"_**Damn it, Wilson! He's not ready yet. Give him the sedative! Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still. Try to remain calm."**_

The brunette he had seen earlier entered his field of vision, surveying him with cold blue eyes.

_That's right, Wilson, you moron. Give me the blasted seda- Wait, no! I just became conscious! Don't knock me out already! Give me a painkiller or some-_

But no. Already he felt the effects of a powerful sedative enter his system. The pain began to fade, blissfully so, even as the machine around him began to calm down as well. But the world was swimming out of focus once more, and darkness threatened to reassert its hold over him.

Snatches of words made themselves known, but he could no longer tell what they were talking about. Steadily his head fell to one side, and then he knew no more.

* * *

"_**Wake up, Commander."**_

_I want breakfast in bed._

The very surface he was on shook violently, and the faint sound of an explosion made itself heard. He winced and moved his body experimentally. No pain. Well, that was a start.

"_**Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now - this facility is under attack."**_

A second explosion rocked the room, this time louder and a lot more intense. His eyes jerked opened at the force of the tremor, and he winced as bright lights permeated his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to get accustomed quickly. Already he was being thrown into action. He touched his face, feeling multiple scars still prominent on his skin. The bigger movements were still causing him pain, though nowhere near the level he had first experienced. This much he could handle.

Grunting slightly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, grabbing his side as he did so. He had many unhealed injuries. But if the facility was under attack, he had no choice but to get moving.

He got to his feet, even as the distorted voice continued to speak. He recognized it as belonging to the brunette. So he was still around the same people.

"_**There's a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"**_

He stood, ignoring the pain that plagued his body. His magic was weak, compared to what he once possessed. But he supposed the entirety of his magic would be too much for a new body to handle. His core would probably build up again as he got accustomed to his new body. The magic he did have coursed wildly through his body, begging him to let it heal his injuries. But he couldn't. It would arouse too much suspicion.

_Well, at least Death was right about the magic. Somewhat. None of the devices in my body seem to be failing...yet._

He cast a pain numbing charm on himself. It would have to do for now, at least he would be able to fight undisturbed by pangs of pain.

"_**You don't have time to wait around, Shepard! Grab your weapon and armor!"**_

He moved swiftly, his body moving with practiced efficiency as it put on the uniform and checked the pistol by sheer reflex. That answered his question about the body retaining things. John had been one serious soldier. He was impressed by the armor he was wearing, it was light, and yet he could tell it would take quite a few blows. The pistol felt at home in his hand, as if he had been born with one.

"This pistol doesn't have a thermal clip!" he called out as he raised the gun and checked its sights. _Thermal clips. Their version of ammo_ he told himself as the information went through his mind swiftly. As soon as he got the chance, he would have to use Occlumency and assimilate all the new information floating around his mind.

_**It's a med bay. We'll get you a clip from - damn it! Keep your head down, Shepard, shield yourself from the blast!**_

He threw himself into cover behind the first object he could find, and as if on cue, the door leading away from the room exploded, scattering debris everywhere.

_This is one wild welcome party. Reminds me of the raids I used to go on_ he thought with amusement. He had envisioned waking up in a more...controlled environment.

_**Someone's hacking security trying to kill you. Look for a thermal clip for your pistol.**_

Yep, this was definitely shaping up to look like one of the good ol' days, where everyone was trying to kill him.

_Did I just call those days "good ol"? I need help_ he groaned internally as he approached a uniformed corpse that had clearly been trying to fend off attackers. He rummaged around until he found a thermal clip and equipped it. The clip sank in with a hiss, signaling that the weapon could now be fired. He felt oddly at home in the presence of death. On second thoughts, perhaps it wasn't so odd.

Now armed, he strode purposefully to the next room.

_**Look out!**_ warned the voice and he swerved to his right, where humanoid robots stood poised, ready to attack him. The first spell was already at his lips when he realized that he was under surveillance. And he hardly wanted to give himself away just yet.

So instead he raised the pistol, firing twice at the bot's head before ducking down under cover.

_Join used biotic attacks that pushed, pulled and lifted. Perhaps I can use my magic camouflaged as biotics._

Then he stood again and held out his hand, releasing a powerful burst of magic that shattered the second mech utterly, leaving only smoking debris.

_Hmm. Magic's not nearly what it used to be. It's like my core started out nearly empty. Makes sense, I suppose. Introducing a full core into a new body would probably tear the body apart._

He strode forward purposefully, though really, there was only one path he could take through the sprawling facility. All around him there were signs of damage - fires, broken equipment, scorch marks, and corpses, both mechanical and human.

_This was a massacre_ he thought somberly. Back in the living world for all of a few minutes, and already he was surrounding by blood and death. The resentment with which he had departed the living world reared its ugly head again. But Shepard's sense of honor warred against the resentment, pushing it to one side. Another indication of how much of Shepard had been left behind.

More mechs. He threw up a barrier around himself like he had seen Shepard do. But this barrier was far more durable than any biotic barrier. Then shot off a spell he had been itching to try. He forced the magic to form a dense core, drawing all objects in a certain radius to itself. Immediately the mechs were thrown off their feet, forced towards the core. As they hung suspended in mid-air, he casually picked them off with his pistol.

_The adrenaline of combat without the guilt of taking a human life. I love these mechs already_ he thought as he kept moving at a swift pace. This body was lithe and muscular, resembling his former body greatly. He was rather relieved that Shepard wasn't a hunk of walking muscle like a lot of soldiers tended to be. It made for poor agility.

Now he was in a room where fires raged, and there seemed to be no stairs that led to the level below. But the voice seemed to predict his every difficulty, directing him first to the grenade launcher on the floor. He picked it and aimed it at the door, where some mechs were about to come through.

The resulting explosion tore the mechs apart, and he was led to what apparently functioned as an elevator, though it looked nothing like the elevators he'd seen.

"_**Hurry! Get to the door, run!"**_

He ran through the flames, taking care to shield his face with his armored arms as he did so. He barely felt the fire on his body. He would have preferred a flame freezing charm, but he had no choice but to continue performing for the mysterious voice, which clearly had cameras of some sort trained along his path. It was beginning to annoy him already, having to hide his magic.

_**You're doing fine Sh- ead to the- eet you there."**_

The voice was abruptly cut off, as if the owner of the voice had been forced away from her position. No one would be able to track him now. But would the cameras still be recording? Shepard's mind told him that technology was certainly advanced enough to transmit live feeds from one base to others. He would still have to rein himself in.

He continued to explore the base, pausing when he found what he was able to identify as voice logs. He played them, listening intently for any information he could get about his current situation.

_This Wilson seems to be jealous. And the project to revive me seems to be the first of its kind, even this far into the future. But there's no real information. Who do Miranda and Wilson work for? Who is this Illusive Man?_

They weren't Alliance, that was for damn sure. Yet another door opened, and sounds of a firefight hit him immediately.

_Someone's alive and fighting back!_ he thought victoriously as he dashed forward, throwing simple blasting hexes at the mechs he could see. A man was kneeling near a stretch of railing, the glass in front of him cracking as he took cover from the mechs. The mechs were soon dismantled, and he darted next to the man, immediately sending a light Legilimency probe at him.

He would not invade the privacy of the mind's mind, but his surface thoughts was another matter. The distinction had been made clear to him through practice. Surface thoughts were practically sent out as a broadcast unless occlumency was in effect. He needed to know this was an ally, and not an enemy.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were still a work in progress!"

_Surprise. Shock. Confusion. But no animosity. I can trust him. For now._

"Apparently they decided to hurry along the assembly line," he shot back sarcastically as more mechs streamed out of the door on the other side of the room, "I just woke up you moron! You most certainly know more than I do."

"Right. Sorry. I forgot this was all new to you. Name's Jacob Taylor. I was-"

Here he broke off to fire a few rounds at the mechs, decapitating one of them as he did so.

"Jacob. You're with the woman who was speaking to me over the microphone?" he asked, sending another singularity at the mechs to pull them out of cover.

"Nice," complimented Jacob, shooting another mech on the head, "And that woman you're talking about is probably Miranda Lawson, head of this base."

_He just thought of something called Cerberus. I wonder if- Oh yeah, John's come across them before._

John _really_ hadn't been a fan of Cerberus. The dislike associated with the name was almost tangible. But he would form his own conclusions, as he always did. It did not stop him from being a little more wary of Jacob, however. Why would Cerberus, of all people, revive him? From what John's memories said, they weren't exactly on the best of terms.

"This must be worse than I thought if Miranda woke you up. Come on, I'll fill you in on the way to the shuttle, but we need to get moving now!"

He did not dispute what Jacob said, for the urgency in his voice was tangible. He could wait a little longer for some answers. He stood and fired five times, destroying the last mech that was standing.

"Lead the way, Jacob."

* * *

"Bastards got me in the leg," spat the bald man Jacob had identified as Wilson. It had taken only a second for him to realize that Wilson was practically radiating fear, anger, jealousy and hatred. He had to look no further for the one who started this entire mess.

Only the fact that Jacob would see him as hostile kept him from striking down the bleeding man at that very moment. As far as Jacob was concerned, Wilson was an injured ally, and he had no means of proving otherwise.

_He'll live. For now _he decided reluctantly before walking over to the nearby med station and applying some medigel to Wilson.

_Heal you first. Kill you later_ he thought viciously as he stood up. Traitors were the one thing that would guarantee animosity on his part. There had been too many traitors in his life. Too many for him not to become cynical of anyone who attempted to call themselves his friend.

The trio proceeded onwards, with him keeping a careful eye on Wilson. There was no way he would allow the engineer to get behind him. He could this move confused Jacob, as it was normal for the more durable soldiers to take the lead. But Jacob said nothing, perhaps realizing that he had no reason to trust anyone in that base. They soon stopped when they reached a deserted area, and Jacob turned around to face him.

"Alright Shepard. I'm gonna level with you, and hope you trust us after this. We-"

"You're Cerberus," he interrupted, ignoring the surprised looks on their faces, "And you brought me back to face the Reaper threat. Until we get away from this bloody battle, that'll do Jacob. But don't expect me to shake your hand anytime soon."

Jacob hesitated, before nodding, "Alright Shepard. Let's move to the shuttle. Miranda should be there."

"Miranda," snarled Wilson, and he felt the spike of jealousy without even trying to use Legilimency, "She's probably dead, the mechs were all over her sector."

"She won't die easily," insisted Jacob, "I'm sure we'll run into her along the way."

"If she isn't dead, where is she? I wouldn't be surprised if she was responsible for this damn mess in the first place."

_The guilty deflecting guilt. Glad to see something things haven't changed_ he snorted internally before cutting in, "Either way, our destination is the shuttle, right? Let's get moving. If you're right, Jacob, and she's alive, I'm sure she'll be near the shuttle too."

Both Jacob and Wilson gave him reluctant nods - though for different reasons - and they moved towards the shuttle once more.

"We're almost there!" announced Jacob after a few minutes, as they climbed up the stairs to what appeared to be a docking area, with dozens of cargo crates strewn around.

"Good," he nodded as he quickly switched to his grenade launcher and fired the remaining two rounds. One explosion later, the bay was free of hostiles.

"You fight like you haven't been dead for two years," remarked Jacob as he moved towards the exit.

"Incredibly, Jacob, I've gotten better compliments than that," he snorted, relaxing slightly as Jacob opened the door that led to the shuttle.

"Miranda!" Jacob inhaled sharply as the door flew open. Without wasting even a second, Miranda brought up her gun and shot Wilson once. He was dead before he hit the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" snarled Jacob as he trained his gun on her.

"My job. Wilson was the one who sent the mechs on that rampage," she replied coolly as she holstered her gun. Jacob reluctantly followed her lead, having no choice but to accept the word of his superior.

He looked at Wilson's dead body silently before meeting Miranda's cold blue eyes. She was surveying him critically, as if trying to gauge the result of an experiment gone wrong.

He merely shrugged and put away his own pistol, "If you hadn't shot him, I would have."

He walked past them both to the shuttle, leaving them to interpret his statement however they wanted to. He couldn't wait to be off the station.

* * *

_Spells filled the air around them as they clung to the hallway, desperately reinforcing the parts of the wall that hadn't already been blown away. _

"_Happy birthday you crazy bastard!" shouted a strapping young man with brown eyes as he threw a particularly vicious curse at a group of masked attackers. Screams echoed around the hallway as the curse connected, and bits of flesh rained around them._

_Near him was a thin, dark haired man with gleaming green eyes and a scar on his forehead who grimaced at the carnage._

"_Remind me to introduce you to a normal birthday party! They sing in horrible, out of tune voices and cut a boring cake!"_

"_You're both nuts!" yelled a blonde woman as she look up from weaving her wand around what appeared to be thin air. She had studiously ignored the fighting, choosing instead to mutter feverishly as she searched for something._

"_What's the status on the wards?" yelled the green eyed man as he aimed through a hole in the wall before shouting, "__**Confringo!**__"_

_An explosion rocked the hallway they were in, and dust filled the air, accompanied by a few groans as the aftermath of the spell sunk in. There were no more forthcoming attacks. _

"_...Harry, that was anticlimactic," muttered the brown eyed man._

"_Oh that I lived to see the day when Neville Longbottom lamented the end of a fight," mocked Harry as he coughed slightly before waving his wand and dispelling the dust._

"_Right, the wards are down. Let's get moving!" exclaimed the blonde woman. A door shimmered into existence at the end of the hallway, and they began to move carefully._

"_Hannah, you made sure to check for redundancies?" asked Harry as he took the lead._

"_**Homenum Revelio,"**__ whispered Neville. They waited with bated breath for a few seconds, but there was no tangible result._

"_Nothing. Let's keep moving," urged Neville, and they began to move quicker. The Lestange mansion was NOT a location any of them wanted to dally around in._

"_Right. Hannah, get the door. I'll cover you," whispered Harry, and they fell into their usual formation. Harry pressed himself against the right side of the door while Neville took the left corner. Their squad would always take turns with this, and this one was Hannah's turn._

_Hannah blasted the door open and immediately she was flung back, her eyes going wide as a portion of her face was torn apart by a sickly green curse. Blood splattered Neville and Harry who now looked shocked, as if unable to comprehend the sight they were witnessing._

"_Potty and the Bottom thought they were so so clever didn't they? Bella knows how to hide from detecting speeeells" cackled an insane female voice on the other side, "That girl's brains look sooooooo pretty~ I wonder what yours will look like!"_

"_Bellatrix!" snarled Neville as an ugly red aura began to envelope him, "I'll kill you, you hear me?! I'LL FUCKING RIP YOU APART!"_

_His magic exploded, flinging Harry heavily into a nearby wall. Blood dripped from his head as he fought to go to Neville's side, to calm the distraught boy. But what could he say, when Neville's girlfriend had just been killed in front of his very eyes?_

_He succumbed to unconsciousness then, ever as Neville's war-like roar rang in his ears, and he charged into the dark room alone._

* * *

"Shepard? Shepard! Commander!"

He winced as Jacob's firm voice reached his ears, tensed and a little worried. He cracked one eye open to look at Jacob, who sat opposite him in the shuttle that was well away from the massacred station at this point. He had laid his head back almost as soon as they had boarded, badly needing some sleep. His body had not been anywhere near peak condition, mostly because, in Miranda's words, he had not been woken up at the right time.

"You alright sir? You were shaking badly, like you were in a nightmare."

"What's giving you nightmares Shepard?" cut in Miranda, surveying him as if he were a lab specimen. He would have been offended, were it not for the fact that one of his closest friends, Padma, had looked at the world the same way.

"Anyone who's been a soldier long enough has nightmares," he replied easily, knowing the non-answer would irritate Miranda intensely. It was one art that he had mastered, after seeing how effectively Dumbledore used non-answers to his advantage. It didn't help Miranda that Jacob was nodding solemnly at what he said. She narrowed her eyes, but didn't pursue the question further.

"Very trusting of you, going to sleep with two virtual strangers around you," she probed again, clearly seeking to elicit a reaction.

"Yeah, because your organization spent over two billion credits bringing me back just so they could kill me in my sleep," he shot back sarcastically, "Oh, you _really_ need to secure your voice logs better."

_Harry 1, Miranda 0_ he thought internally with smug satisfaction. He had thought his social skills would be rusty after so many years of no human contact, but it seemed his worries had been for naught. He was already irritating people, just as he had done so in the past. But then, he'd been working on irritating Death for the past few centuries.

"You handled yourself good out there Commander," Jacob chipped in, a faint note of admiration in his voice, "I'd have thought you'd be all over the place when you woke up."

"I probably would have been, if I'd woken up in a stable environment," he replied, smiling faintly at Jacob. He liked the man, from what little he'd managed to learn about him so far. He was a soldier with a conscience, and Harry had been in enough battles to know what a rare breed that was, "Battle has a curious way of focusing your priorities. Like staying alive, for one thing."

"Amen to that," laughed Jacob, "But you were seriously focused. I mean, you even knew we were Cerberus!"

"Yes, Jacob told me about that. How did you know we were Cerberus Commander?"

"I've come across you before, remember?" he replied glibly, calling on John's memories once more, "It's hard to forget an organization like yours. You have a veeery sticky past."

It was another non-answer, and Miranda knew it. Irritation flashed across her eyes for a second, before she overpowered it with indifference once more.

"Before we reach the base, we need to run some tests on you," she continued crisply, "Your waking up protocol was less than ideal, and we needed to assess your...condition. We need to know your memories are intact."

Harry rolled his eyes at how undaunted she was before winking almost imperceptibly at Jacob. He then turned around to face Miranda, with a look of mock wonderment on his face.

"Wow Jacob, she's so life-like! How did Cerberus build a robot that was so...human? Is that real skin? Don't tell me where you got your hands on the skin mate. I don't wanna know"

Jacob had an unwilling smile on his face, but he also looked slightly nervous. Now Miranda didn't even try to hide the irritation she felt, but she proceeded onwards with iron certainty. Harry had to give her points for that, she was impossible to deter.

"Jacob, ask the questions," ordered Miranda.

"Alright. Commander. You won your stripes holding off batarian slavers. You almost singlehandedly routed the entire force. Do you remember that?"

He nodded, taking the question seriously. Cerberus would have to trust that he was indeed John Shepard. At least until he didn't need them any more.

"I remember. I still don't know _how_ I did it. All I know is that a lot of good people died that day, and I'd be damned if I let the slavers walk away after that."

"I understand Commander. It was still impressive, especially considering you hadn't seen any significant combat before that."

Jacob then turned to face Miranda. Harry could tell Jacob didn't really want to run those tests, perhaps because he was already convinced after the fight they'd been in together.

"Satisfied, Miranda?"

"Almost. Let's try something a little more recent. Virmire. Saren's cloning facility. You had to leave one of your squadmates behind."

The wave of sadness that washed over him threatened to engulf him. He wrestled the emotion under control with the air of someone who'd done so many times. John had clearly felt strongly about this, and he could understand why. Hannah's face floated into his memory. He still saw her with part of her face blown away, even after all those years.

"Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko was killed in action. It was your call. Why did you leave him behind?"

His eyes hardened. Kaidan Alenko was the name these people were throwing at him, but Hannah Abbot was the one on his mind at the moment.

"The death of a friend is not something I want to discuss with two strangers. All I'm going to say is that every soldier knows the chances of them walking away from a mission. I have no doubt that the sacrifice that soldier made saved many lives."

_She really did save countless lives. The Lestranges did have a horcrux in their mansion._

He knew he was pushing John's memories aside, but for now, he had no choice. He had raided the memories of many enemies in the past, and it had always taken a solid Occlumency session to integrate the memories he wanted and discard the rest. In John's case, he had a lifetime's worth of memories to integrate with his own. It would take a few hours at the very least.

"Understood, Commander. And for the record, I'm not questioning the call you made."

He nodded gratefully at Jacob. Miranda sighed, her expression stating she clearly wanted to run more tests on him. But she held back, something for which he found himself grateful. He wasn't sure how many more of Shepard's powerful memories he could handle just yet. Perhaps she didn't want to alienate him before he even met her boss.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. He was more than content to sit and begin sorting through John's memories. He began by looking for information about the threat he had agreed to face. John's memories held many things about the Reapers. And none of it was good.

* * *

"The Illusive Man is waiting for you," Jacob said, gesturing to a staircase that led to a lower level, "Me and Miranda will wait here."

Miranda gave him a slight nod before turning to read something on a holographic screen. Jacob walked over to a window that gave them an excellent view into space, and merely stood there, as if processing what had happened. He had to force himself to turn away from the view - it really was spectacular. And he had grown to foster a great love of scenery while in the crossroads. It was one of the few things he could do to entertain himself with.

_Right. Let's go meet the mysterious man with the ridiculous codename._

The room he walked into was dimly like, and had a circular structure in the middle. It was completely empty. Wasn't the Illusive Man supposed to be here? He strode around the room cautiously, and at one point, stepped gingerly into the circular structure. Immediately he saw an orange matrix rise around him, and heard the sound of a powerful machine starting to work.

He felt an image being superimposed over his field of vision. Grainy and static at first, it soon took on a high resolution, and he found himself looking at a completely different location. A large sun glowed in the background, and he found himself captured by the awesome sight. Then his eyes fell upon a man who sat silently in a chair, silhouetted by the sun.

The man's eyes glowed with power, and he found himself wondering what those eerie eyes could do. They were implants, of that much he was certainly.

_Dumbledore would have loved those eyes_ he found himself thinking with amusement.

"Commander Shepard," the man spoke quietly, exhaling a lungful of smoke as he did so.

_Damn. I can't use even surface Legilimency on a bloody image_ he found him cursing his ill fortune. There was no way this Illusive Man could have known of Legilimency, but he seemed highly paranoid nonetheless, to only take meetings through holographic projections.

"Illusive Man. I was going to say I thought we'd be meeting face-to-face. But we **are** meeting face to face aren't we? A face-to-face from different galaxies, no doubt."

The Illusive Man's expression never changed as he flicked ash off his cigar as he studied Harry with his eerie eyes.

"A necessary precaution, if one knows what you and I know," he replied inscrutably.

"Clearly a requirement to be promoted in Cerberus is the ability to show the emotional range of a stone wall," he replied sarcastically. First Miranda, now this man. Whatever happened to the emotional human being?

This gave the Illusive Man a moment of pause, but that could just have been because he was taking another drag from his cigarette.

"I know your dealings with Cerberus have been bad in the past. But we share the same goals you do. Only our methods differ," he stated after a while.

"But you wouldn't have resurrected someone who didn't agree with your methods unless you were forced to," he countered, "So tell me, what have the Reapers been up to."

"I'm glad to see your mind is as sharp as ever. I confess, resurrecting you raised many questions. I see now they're unwarranted."

He remained silent, waiting for the Illusive Man to continue. The leader of Cerberus stood, his eyes now rotating within his sockets. He looked grim.

"We're under war, Shepard. Humanity is being attacked, whether they're acknowledging it or not. While you've been...sleeping, entire human colonies have disappeared. Human colonies. We believe the Reapers are striking through their agents again, just like they used Saren."

Saren. That name brought forward another onslaught of memories. A man who believed he was doing the right thing. A man who had been brainwashed by a Reaper. The man who had caused so much death and misery. And yet, John could not help but show the man pity. In his own twisted way, Saren had believed he was saving them all.

"You've seen it, and you've bested it before," continued the Illusive Man, "That's just one reason why we chose you."

This man was good. Subtle flattery, rather than overt compliments.

"Hundreds of thousands of people are disappearing, Shepard. But no one will act, because they're seemingly random and happen in remote locations, outside of Citadel space and Alliance space. Cerberus isn't concerned with their politics. We've always fought for human interests, and this is a serious matter."

He surveyed the Illusive Man critically, cursing the fact that Legilimency wouldn't help him here. The man had an incredible poker face, and he had no idea how much information was being withheld from him.

"Convince me," he said simply. He needed more information. He needed proof.

"Fair enough. I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to be abducted. Find your own evidence. If you aren't convinced, we'll go our separate ways. Miranda and Jacob will brief you."

He nodded, knowing this was the best he could expect. He would go to this colony and seek his own evidence. He cursed himself for setting his own restrictions on Legilimency. He would not invade Miranda's or Jacob's privacy. Not until he knew for sure they were hostile or untrustworthy.

_But then again, without these restrictions, I'd be no better than Dumbledore_ he told himself as he left the holographic circle and headed back up the stairs.

"Commander. Do we have a mission?" asked Jacob as soon as he re-entered the room where the other two were. It was a loaded question. Jacob was asking him, subtly, if he was on board.

"For now," he replied cautiously, "Let's head to Freedom's Progress. You can brief me on the way."

"Yes sir! It's an honor to be able to work with you," Jacob replied, saluting him swiftly.

_Not a simple gun for hire, no. This man has honor._

"The shuttle is prepped Commander. This pad has the information you need," chipped in Miranda, handing him an infopad. He nodded, putting it away.

"Before we leave, there's something important we have to do," he said firmly, stopping both Miranda and Jacob, who were almost the door that led to the shuttle.

"What's that, Commander?" Jacob asked, confused.

"Food. I'm bloody starving. You realize I haven't had a solid meal for two years now?"

* * *

**I wanted the standard chapter length to be 10k words. But I realized that can't happen for the first 3-4 chapters, since I'll still be setting the story up. After that, and once I begin to deviate from canon significantly, expect the average chapter to be 10k+ words. This one is around 7k.**

**I know what some of you are probably thinking. Don't worry. Not all fight scenes will be THAT detailed. But this was Harry's first experience in the living world, and I wanted to portray it in detail.**

**A lot of the dialogue in this chapter is based from the games. Again, it was inevitable, since these are the opening chapters. But I think Harry still got to use his own brand of craziness in there. Why does Harry talk and act weird? If you were cut off from social interactions for centuries, you'd go a little nuts too. **

**Now, let's talk pairings.**

**Option #1 - Harry/Miranda - He's in a new body. Her body was literally engineered. She sees herself as a tool to be used. Harry WAS used as a tool against Voldemort. I feel like these two characters could connect on a deep level because of these similarities.**

**Option #2 - Harry/Liara - Liara could understand an ancient entity like Harry better than most people could. The level of intimacy the asari can create would really be a nice foil for Harry, who's used to keeping people at an arm's length.**

**Option #3 - Harry/Tali - Tali is awesome. Enough said. Her innocence against Harry's cynicism would be a great dynamic for a relationship to build around.**

**Option #4 - If you have an idea I haven't mentioned here, just tell me in a review, with some reasoning. I'll probably put up a vote once I get enough responses. But remember, I have veto power on what choices I put up. Some pairings I refuse to write.**

**Review and let me know what you think please!**

**SK.**


	3. Chapter 2 - Freedom's Progress

**Author's Note:**

The reception I've been getting made for a great birthday present (April 1st. And no, this isn't a gag). So thank you for that!

The votes for pairings were extremely close. I think there's equal interest for all the options! Let me begin with pairings I don't want to write. Ashley - I don't like her very much. I won't elaborate and go into a bashing streak (here or within the story) but let me just say that I won't write a pairing with her. Dr. Chakwas - Points for thinking outside the box, but no. I'm too used to seeing her as Shepard's drinking buddy.

The only way I'll be able to accommodate the three major options (and possibly more) would be a harem kind of situation. I'm not opposed to the concept itself. What I am opposed to is the fact that most of them seem to end up being focused around sweaty bodies in a bedroom. I'm not confident I can do justice to the depth that I want each pairing in a harem to have. But I'll think about it seriously. And if I think I can do them justice, I will. Would you like to see a harem-type situation or a single pairing? Let me know.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP or ME. I do own the specific nuances of this plot.**

**Announcement: I'd like to thank Philosophize for volunteering to be a second pair of eyes for my chapter drafts. He's been enormously helpful already. You rock man.**

**I'd still like someone who's good at writing relationships to be working with me. It will increase the chances of the relationships being developed well. PM me if you think you're the person to help with that.**

* * *

"Miranda, what's your status?" asked the Illusive Man as his eyes swept swiftly over dozens of reports from Cerberus operations all around the galaxy. His prosthetic eyes had been a source of mystery for many, and wild theories abounded a-plenty in the mess halls of Cerberus. Information could be read and processed at a blistering pace with his eyes - an attempt to recreate the biological effects of an eidetic memory. They had failed, but the eyes elevated his capabilities greatly nonetheless. Of course, they had a few other hidden capabilities, as well.

"_**We're en route to Freedom's Progress, sir. We should be there in a matter of minutes."**_

"And Shepard?"

"_**He's...eating sandwiches, sir."**_

The Illusive Man froze in his seat, his cigarette forgotten in his hand.

"I beg your pardon?"

"_**He insisted on food before we departed for Freedom's Progress. Sandwiches were the only thing we could provide on such short notice."**_

He felt the incredulity in Miranda's voice, and he couldn't blame her.

"We did not anticipate those requirements. In retrospect, it seems rather obvious."

"_**Quite so, sir." **_

Miranda, though she agreed with him, had a tone which seemed to suggest that she was a high ranking officer of Cerberus, not a catering service. He found it hard to disagree with that notion.

He flicked some ash away from his cigarette, frowning as he tried to wrap his mind around Shepard. Shepard was proving to be enigmatic, but he had expected it to be so.

"You're certain the revival went as planned? That Shepard was brought back with his former capabilities?"

"_**His memories are intact, and Jacob tells me his combat abilities were polished, even after a gap of two years."**_

He nodded decisively. Those were the only aspects of Shepard Cerberus had information about. Shepard seemed to have resisted psych evaluations in the Alliance. The only record Cerberus had managed to obtain regarding Shepard's personality was a quasi-psychological report that had been conducted when Shepard was inducted into the N7 program. That was years old, and was likely no longer accurate.

"We're treading in the dark when it comes to Shepard's personality, Miranda. We know only of his defining moments as a soldier, not an individual. Observe him during the mission. We already know his skills are intact, so focus on how he behaves, how he carries himself. Until we can get an expert to observe him, I'm counting on you for some preliminary impressions."

"_**Of course. I have to end communications now. He's suspicious of us already, and I can't be gone for too long."**_

He nodded idly to himself as the link was cut off. Miranda could be trusted to keep him updated on Shepard's activities. But he needed someone to keep an eye specifically on Shepard's mental state. What he knew so far didn't worry him unduly. Shepard's skills and memories were intact, which meant he was a valuable asset. He opened another communication link.

"Prep Dr. Chambers immediately. Debrief her and place her with Shepard's crew."

They did not have a psych eval available to them, so they would just have to conduct their own evaluation. He was certain Shepard would take to Chambers, he had taken care not to involve her in the...less moral aspects of Cerberus. She was a talented psychologist, and her presence could always be explained away by stating that her task was to assess potential squad members.

With that complete, he resumed flicking through the reports. Cerberus was growing in strength, and would not stop growing anytime soon.

_Anything necessary for the sake of humanity. We stain our hands, that humanity might prosper._

* * *

Harry tore into a sandwich with gusto, even as one hand flicked over the infopad that lay on his thigh. The sandwich was delicious - clearly provisions were not a problem for Cerberus. Then again, he _was_ with two of the high-ranking officers of Cerberus, so there was no telling what the ordinary Cerberus soldier would get.

Food was, funnily enough, one of the things he had missed most about the living world. Oh, he could conjure himself a veritable feast fit for the gods in the crossroads. And he had done so, from time to time. But nothing could truly match the purely physical reaction a body emanated when its hunger was sated. It was of the body, and belonged to the body. And that was something that could never truly be replicated in the Crossroads.

Freedom's Progress hammered home just how much humanity had changed since his time. Oh, he had known that they had ventured far into space - John's memories were a testament to how far humanity had advanced. But this made it real to _him_. Hundreds of people had colonized Freedom's Progress, far away from Citadel space, let alone Earth. They had even created their own militia - a human security force, supplemented by mechs and drones.

_But far stronger colonies were taken, and without any signs of disturbance at that. These people are most likely gone. Perhaps information can be taken from the mechs or drones, if any were active._

This was what confused him the most. How could one capture an entire colony and leave no traces of a fight?

_Then again, who knows what technology is capable of these days. A gas that paralyzes them, perhaps? Too much is unknown._

He sighed slightly before putting the infopad away. He did not have the privacy he needed to work on his Occlumency, which meant he had to work through his mission even as turmoil raged within him.

He looked up as Miranda re-entered the seating area from the cockpit. She had excused herself a few minutes ago, saying she wanted to get an update about their location.

"The pilot says we'll be there soon Commander. Do you have any orders for us?"

He cocked his head to one side, deciding now was the time to command obedience. Trust could come later, if at all. But in a battle, he couldn't and wouldn't allow for disobedience.

"That depends, Miranda. Are you willing to follow orders?" he asked her, steel entering his tone for the first time in his dialogue with her. The effect was tangible, as both Jacob and Miranda flinched slightly, as if shocked to see him so serious.

"What do you mean?" asked Miranda, trying to look as detached as ever.

"It doesn't take a mind reader to realize you're not pleased about this. You may not be outrightly hostile, but you're damn sure not an ally right now," he growled, meeting her eyes and pinning her with a piercing look.

"I have the utmost respect for your talents, Commander. It's your motivation that I question. Cerberus works for the good of humanity. Only time will tell if you're an asset or a liability."

He laughed harshly, still holding eye contact. To her credit, she didn't look away, though she did adjust her position on the seat uncomfortably.

"Let's be clear about this, Ms. Lawson. Cerberus and I are aligned only insofar as in we both want the Reaper threat gone. Your boss knows this, and still placed you under my command. I couldn't care less about whether you trust me, but I'll be damned if I let your opinions undermine my authority."

"Your orders are absolute in the field, Shepard," Miranda replied calmly, though her voice shook by a miniscule amount.

"We didn't bring you back from the dead just to second guess you, Commander," soothed Jacob, looking tense as the pressure in the room rose to new levels.

Harry looked at both of them in turn for a few minutes before abruptly losing his aura of command, reverting to his easygoing and slightly crazy state.

"Alrighty then," he replied cheerfully, brushing away the topic as if it had never been brought up, "Sandwiches, anyone?"

Jacob and Miranda looked shocked by how quickly he had switched moods, before gingerly declining his offer of sandwiches. They shot each other a quizzical look, but Harry knew the talk had done its trick. They respected his ability to command now, at least enough that they wouldn't question him on this mission.

_A leader who can't lead is useless_ he mused to himself, his mind going back to all those years ago when Hannah had died and Neville had gone berserk with rage. He had felt so weak, so insufficient. He had sworn he would never feel that way again. And he wouldn't.

* * *

The shuttle landed sleekly and silently near the edge of Freedom's Progress, and Harry jumped out, followed closely by Miranda and Jacob. He inhaled the air deeply, even as his hands readied his weapon.

"Right. Miranda, your file says you're more of a mid-range fighter. I'll take point. Jacob, your biotics lets you handle the flow of the battle from the rear. You'll also act as lookout for any surprise attacks from the back. Understood?"

"Yes, Commander," his squadmates chorused as they took up positions as per his orders. He breathed deeply once more. The station he had woken up on was a street fight, where he had functioned largely on his own. But this was a real battle, and he would have to account for two others. His magic thrummed with delight within his body, remembering battle as an old friend.

They moved swiftly and efficiently through the first room, which was completely abandoned, though half eaten dishes of food littered one of the tables they found.

"Looks like everyone just got up and left in the middle of dinner," muttered Jacob as they kept moving. The very air itself felt wrong, as if something horrible had happened in the seemingly silent colony.

_Fear_ he realized with a start _The air is filled with fear._

"Strange," spoke Miranda as they entered what appeared to be a nerve point in the colony, "No bodies. No structural damage. No signs of battle."

It was odd. In a clearing such as the one they were in, it was impossible for there not to be any signs of a battle. It would simply have been impossible to cover them up. And yet there were no scorch marks, no battered debris, no sign that any kind of battle had taken place.

_The alternative seems impossible as well. What force could abduct an entire colony without __**any**__ struggle whatsoever?_

He shrugged internally and kept moving, opening a rather large door that he assumed led to the more residential quarters, while the outer areas were most likely occupied by the militia. As soon as the door fell open, he swore and had to duck as a LOKI mech began to fire on him almost immediately.

"Miranda," he snarled, "Time for Overload to shine!"

"Yes Commander," replied Miranda as she activated her omnitool, forcing a burst of charge to hit the mech, destroying it instantly. More mechs were already streaming in, and for the first time, he found himself looking looking at odd, dog-shaped mechs that exploded when Jacob shot one in the head.

"Seriously? Your bloody pets are mechanical too now?" he muttered as he flung two mechs in the air with a burst of magic. Their legs broke when they landed, leaving them to be picked off easily by Miranda. The dogs were clearly meant to function as suicide attackers, as they exploded with enough force to cause anyone nearby grievous harm.

"FENRIS mechs," muttered Jacob disgustedly, "They're always a pain in the ass."

"Just be glad the makers didn't name them FIDO mechs. What a laugh that would have been," he snorted as he kicked over a mech to make sure it was disabled.

Jacob shot him a look that left no doubt that he thought he was crazy. He couldn't disagree with the man's assessment.

"These mechs should have recognized us as human," observed Miranda tensely, "They shouldn't have attacked us."

"Were the mechs activated in the other colonies?" he asked idly, though his eyes darted around sharply, looking for signs of danger.

"No, they weren't," confirmed Miranda.

"That means someone activated them and changed their protocols after the abduction," deduced Jacob.

"They could still be here if so," he affirmed, "And we may have ourselves that much needed witness after all. Let's pick up the pace."

The next door was close by, and Harry opened it swiftly. Three armored figures immediately drew their guns and advanced on his squad. He pointed his gun at one of them, while a hand glowing with an aura of blue power was pointed at another. Jacob and Miranda were just as swift, and the six of them found themselves in a stalemate.

_Quarians_ whispered a fragment of John's memories, and he relaxed marginally.

"Stay where you are!" snarled the one leading the other two quarians.

"Prazza! You said you'd let me handle this!" exclaimed a feminine tone that made Shepard's memory leap, almost ensuring that he lost his concentration.

"Tali!" he exclaimed, feeling an abundance of affection as he surveyed the lithe quarian who was dressed in dark hues and a light purple. He found himself reliving memories of quiet conversations by a spaceship's engines, of a young girl who sought to carve a path for herself through the customs of her people. She had departed to complete her pilgrimage, hopefully all the better for the experiences she had endured.

_Damn it!_ swore Harry as he pushed back the tide of memories. They really were beginning to grate on his nerves. _Well, at least I know she isn't a hostile._

"Shepard?" whispered the masked woman, eyes glowing faintly as she surveyed him as one would a ghost. He could not blame her. People come back from the dead was not heard of, even in a universe as advanced as this one. Death truly was beyond mortal grasp.

_I'll never tell that bastard so, of course. He's puffed up enough already. "Death is the road where all paths meet." Arrogant jerk._

"I'm not taking any chances with Cerberus operatives," snarled the one Tali had called Prazza, reminding him forcefully of Mad-Eye Moody when he was at his most unreasonable and paranoid. A wheezy tin can version of Moody.

"Put those weapons down!" commanded Tali forcefully before turning to face him once more. He smiled as approval washed over him - Shepard's approval at watching Tali grow to be more assertive. Shepard had truly considered her a friend, as that friendship had been etched into the very physical structures of his brain.

"Did the geth data help with your Pilgrimage, Tali?" he asked, smiling slightly. It was a loaded question, as it would resolve any doubts she had about his identity. He felt a pang of guilt as he lied to one of Shepard's friends. It had been a different matter when it was strangers he had asserted his identity to.

"Yes, is it," Tali replied softly, an undercurrent of gratefulness in her voice, "Stand down, Prazza. This is definitely Shepard."

"Why is your old Commander working for Cerberus?" asked Prazza as he finally holstered his weapon. The other two quarians followed suit, while he signalled to Miranda and Jacob do the same. If it came to it, both he and Jacob could use biotics, while Miranda could disrupt the suits the quarians wore.

"Good question," replied Tali, and the unspoken question in her own tone was loud and clear. He smiled mischievously, taking the opportunity to grate on the nerves of Miranda some more.

"Cerberus found my corpse, fiddled around with it, accidentally brought me back to life, and decided to make me investigate the disappearing human colonies now that I was around."

"I didn't think Cerberus was into necrophilia," deadpanned Tali, nearly him choke as he tried not to laugh. Now he could see why John had liked her. Her wit was razor sharp. Behind him, Miranda twitched irritably, and he had a feeling she was tempted to shoot him where he stood. He hurried onwards with the conversation before she gave in to the urge.

"Now, what're you doing here Tali? I didn't think the Fleet was too interested in human colonies."

"They're not. We're here for a quarian named Veetor. He was here on Pilgrimage."

"Strange. We don't often find quarians on pilgrimage in isolated human colonies," rebutted Miranda, her eyes suspicious as she surveyed the scene before her.

"Quarians can choose where to go on Pilgrimage. Veetor like the idea of a small settlement. He's...not too good with large crowds."

"What she means is he's unstable, and with the trauma of what's happened here, he's probably out of his mind," cut in Prazza , who looked miffed at having been left out of the conversation for so long.

"Delirious," stressed Tali, glaring at Prazza, "But yes. We need to find him and and treat him before he deteriorates even more. When he saw our ship land, he holed up in a warehouse on the far side. We think he's also the one who programmed the mechs to attack anything they see."

"I'm really warming up to this Veetor bloke," muttered Harry. It didn't exactly fuel his desire to help the quarian when said quarian was the reason why robotic dogs were hot on his heels. Metaphorically speaking, of course. That they mildly resembled the hellhound his Aunt Marge (and he used the term aunt loosely) had once owned just made it all the easier for him to blast the mechs apart.

_I think I feel a bit of childhood trauma coming back_ he thought idly while also contemplating the current situation. There was clearly no love lost between Cerberus and the quarians, which would most likely complicate things.

"We should work together," he proposed, "The area is too large for any one squad to cover while killer mechs roam around. We need any information Veetor has about the attack on this colony and you need Veetor himself."

Tali surveyed him for a moment, before nodding, "Alright, Shepard."

"We're working for Cerberus now?" snarled Prazza.

"No, Prazza, you're working for me," snapped back Tali, "And _I_ say we work with my old Commander. Are we clear?"

"Hah!" spat Prazza disgustedly, but made no further attempt to voice his opposition. Harry leaned in near Tali, whispering so only she could hear him.

"You gotta level with me. Do those masks have an off switch?"

"Shepard!" admonished Tali, before adding, "I wish," almost silently. He chuckled. It was inevitable that people who were trusted to lead would have to end up with subordinates like Prazza at least once in their career. And, if they were extremely lucky, only once.

Tali straightened up, a determined air to her poise, "We can't wait around, Shepard. Open air infections can be fatal, and we need to get Veetor help as soon as possible. Go to the warehouse through the center of the colony. We'll circle around and draw some of the mechs away from your squad."

He nodded. Splitting up was the logical measure, and at least this way it lessened the chances of them getting flanked on all sides.

"Stay safe. Keep in radio contact," he told her. Tali nodded.

"Will do. And Shepard, despite the circumstances, it's good to have you back."

And then the quarians were gone, leaving him alone with his squad once more.

"Interesting water break," he commented lightly before readying his own gun, "Let's keep moving."

* * *

Miranda proved to be the star of the mission, much to his chagrin. With her clever use of Overload to disable attack drones and her marksmanship, she was with doubt the most effective against the machines. He had restricted himself to his gun, with only the occasional push or pull using his magic. It was the best way of minimizing detection. Using too much of his powers or using them too often would undoubtedly trigger some doubts.

_I guess I'll have to back off irritating her for a month. Well, two weeks. Nah, a week should be plenty. I always did love a good bargain. 24 hours and a bottle of wine should be enough. Wait, do they still make wine? They have to!_

Having solved that pressing problem, he devoted himself to integrating as much of Shepard's muscle memory as possible. Not doing so would result in just the slightest delay when he moved to avoid fire, or to return fire. A delay that would be more than enough to wound or kill him in high pitched battles. He needed to stop differentiating between himself and Shepard at many levels. This was the first, and probably easiest level to integrate.

_I almost wish Dumbledore was around to answer these questions. But not quite._

Miranda and Jacob looked tense. He couldn't blame them. Scarcely five minutes after meeting the quarians, Tali had radioed in to say that Prazza had taken matters into his own hands, and had gone ahead with the others in the squad. He couldn't find it in himself to blame Tali. He would much rather meet the genius who assigned subordinates as difficult as Prazza to someone who was clearly new to being in charge.

"They've taken the circular route, so don't worry too much, and keep your eyes peeled for anything else that might be useful. Getting _to_ Veetor and getting away with Veetor are two very different things," he told his squadmates. Jacob nodded tersely, while Miranda merely continued to scan their surroundings, but their posture relaxed just a little.

"Besides, think about all the bad press you'll get if two senior Cerberus officers couldn't stop a small quarian extraction squad," he finished cheerfully.

He deserved a bit of fun.

"_**Shepard! Veetor reprogrammed a heavy mech. It's tearing Prazza's squad apart!"**_

"Well, they did want to get to him first," Miranda commented smoothly. He had to stifle a snigger at that. John's memories responded to the name, showing him memories of a viciously power goliath that could tear through vehicles with ease.

"Tali, get to safety right now. You can't face a heavy mech without support. We should almost be there, we'll take care of it," he spoke firmly. He would not see a friend hurt, even if it was a friendship by proxy.

"I knew it. Things were too easy," muttered Jacob as his grip on his gun tightened.

"Well, at least now we know what the nasty surprise at the end of the easy road is," muttered Miranda.

"_**Get your team into position besides the bay doors, and I'll open them,"**_ Tali spoke again. Soon the bay doors in question was upon them, and Harry nodded slightly, indicating for Miranda and Jacob to take up positions on either side of the doors.

Even as the bay doors fell open , his eyes widened slightly at the sight that greeted him. The heavy mech was a behemoth of power, blasting Prazza's squad apart as if they were ragdolls. It was by no means gargantuan by his terms.

_Then again, most people don't have to face down basilisks and dragons when all they want to do is get through puberty in one piece_ he snorted internally. What worried him was the fact that he could show almost nothing of his power. Could he face down this mech with so much in his arsenal sealed away?

"Take cover!" yelled Jacob as the heavy mech turned its attention on them, leaving some of the quarians to crawl away weakly. He winced even as he hid behind solid cover. Having a weapon so loud and powerful turned on him was rather disconcerting. Most deadly spells merely did their work efficiently, without much emphasis on aural intimidation.

"Miranda! Use Overload as often as possible," he yelled as he used biotics to throw some crates on the heavy mech, causing it to stagger.

"Jacob, use biotics on its surroundings, not on the mech itself!"

"I would kill for some explosive crates right now!" Jacob yelled back, even as he followed Harry's lead and threw heavy crates at the mech. The crates weren't doing any damage, but they did help throw the mech off balance. Miranda was already at work, using precise gunfire while waiting to use Overload again.

At first, things seemed to be proceeding slowly, but efficiently. But a sense of danger began to settle in on them even more when they realized that the mech was chipping away at their defensive positions, forcing them out into the open. The twin mass accelerator canons were proving deadly through sheer attrition.

"AH!" yelled Jacob as the YMIR fired a rocket, the inferno making itself known through his cover, which was rather narrow. Already he was bleeding, and looked to be seriously injured on one side. He swore and used the pause following the rocket launch to throw himself into a better position. Jacob did not have that luxury, and the mech began to close in for the kill, the rapid fire rounds were seconds away from completely penetrating his defenses.

"Damn it!" swore Miranda, using an overload to stall the mech temporarily before rushing over to Jacob's location and lugging him away as fast as she could. But by then the YMIR had already recovered, readying itself to launch the next deadly rocket at the duo.

Harry's eyes flared and he brought his hand down sharply, sending a powerful wave of force that threw the mech's arm off balance. The rocket hit closely behind Miranda, throwing the duo off their feet. But they had avoided the worst of the assault. Even as they groaned where they lay, Harry ran towards the YMIR in a flash of emerald, using magic to augment his physical capabilities.

He punched once, targeting the YMIR's head. A deadly halo of emerald magic surrounded his fist even as it impacted on the mech's head, crushing the metal before it as if the mech were made of paper. The head of the YMIR was completely destroyed, leaving only ruined metal. The YMIR fell in an ungainly manner, and he leapt away, dispelling his magic before Miranda and Jacob could get up and see him.

_Damn it. I completely stayed passive there. John wouldn't have done that. I can't let the lack of magic become a fucking handicap, not when I have access to his skills!_

By then Jacob was rapidly healing under the effect of the medigel Miranda was applying, and they had both recovered enough to sit up, looking like they had been run through an incinerator.

He shook himself out of the anger he felt and walking towards them rapidly, making sure they were alright. Miranda nodded at him sharply, but looked a little angry at the way she had been taken out of commission.

"You good?" he asked curtly, placing a hand on Jacob's shoulder lightly.

"Yeah. Sorry about that Shepard," panted Jacob, wincing as he touched his side.

"Rest, Jacob. All hostiles have been eliminated. Miranda, keep an eye on him. I'll check on Tali."

Miranda nodded, before returning to inspecting Jacob's wounds. Harry was impressed with the efficacy of the medigel. As far as immediate results went, it beat most healing spells. There was a nearby room that one of the quarians had stumbled into. The other two were motionless. A quick glance made him grimace. They were both dead. He shook his head again and walked into the room, where Tali was treating the surviving quarian, her hands shaking lightly at the damage.

Medigel alone would not save this quarian. He channeled his power discreetly, casting a powerful healing charm that worked to repair the worst of the damage. Hopefully, Tali was rattled enough that she wouldn't notice it at work. Medigel would do the rest. It worked, and Tali finally staggered away, relief clear in her poise.

"Shepard," she greeted him a shaky voice. He didn't know what to say, and instead decided to place a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"I'll be fine," Tali spoke up, "This is your chance to talk to Veetor. I'll be there once I patch up his suit," she continued, gesturing to the quarian's suit, where a rupture was clearly visible.

He nodded and began to walk to the only other room left, the room where Veetor had to be. Miranda and Jacob joined him on the way, both looking much better for the few minutes they'd gotten to heal and cool down. Jacob still winced every once in a while, but the wounds looked nowhere near as bad as they did before.

"The little creep better have what we need," muttered Jacob as they opened the door. Harry could agree with the sentiment, but he knew how debilitating mental illnesses could be. He couldn't blame Veetor for wanting to protect himself, especially when everyone else in the colony had been taken.

"Monsters coming back. Mechs will protect. Have to hide. Swarms everywhere. Everyone gone. No no no no no-"

The quarian was speaking and working at a feverish pace, his entire body jerking with nervous agitation as his hands flew over the control panel in front of him.

"Veetor," Harry called calmly, knowing any sort of emotion could push Veetor further into the spiral.

"Veetor? No Veetor here. Swarms can't find Veetor. They can't, they can't they-"

Harry sighed, and sent out his magic once more, enveloping Veetor in an ocean of calmness. He was lucky many spells functioned without physical aftereffects. The overpowered calming charm worked, and Veetor stopped speaking, his hands finally resting still against the panel. He swivelled the chair around to face the three of them.

"Human? Where did you hide? How did the swarms not find you?"

"Hide from what?" asked Miranda, keeping her voice calm, though her eyes cut into Veetor with some accusation.

"There were monsters. And swarms. They took everyone."

"You don't know," stated Veetor, though the tone was more of an incredulous question, "But I do. I see everything."

He tapped on his omnitool, and the screens before them immediately began to play footage - footage from the time of the abductions. Harry's heart began to race just a little faster.

_Twinkle eyes wasn't making it up. There really is a threat. And now we're not totally in the dark anymore._

He felt...exhilarated, all the irritation he had previously vanishing. He had been unable to find his footing ever since he had first been revived, walking in the dark with people he did not know. But now, he had a starting point. He had a goal. Everything else would fall into place with time and some work.

"What the hell is that?" Jacob sounded puzzled, as if unable to place the...monsters, for lack of a better word, in the video. Veetor had been right. They looked insect-like, with the tough outer armor that seemed natural.

_Dear god. Luna was right. Cockroaches turn into the enemy far into the future._

"Oh my," began Miranda uncertainly, a first for her, as she always spoke with firm purpose, "I think those are Collectors."

"Should I know them?" he asked the duo behind him uncertainly. Even Shepard's memory contained no mention of them. Clearly they were reclusive, if nothing else.

"No, be surprising if you did," chipped in Jacob, "They live somewhere beyond the Omega 4 Relay. Reclusive as shit."

"They mostly work through intermediaries," continued Miranda, "If they're in league with the reapers, this is bad. We have no idea about their capabilities. We know almost nothing about them at all."

"So they could, theoretically, control these "swarms" Veetor is talking about to abduct the colonists?" he asked, even as he watched flashes of the swarm as they flew past the screen.

"Honestly, with them, anything's possible," replied Jacob.

"The seeker swarms," Veetor began speaking again suddenly, "They find everyone. Freeze them. Then the monsters take them away."

"No wonder they didn't put up any resistance," Jacob spoke in a low voice.

"They sound like miniature probes. They could even be bioweapons, programmed to find you and inject a nerve toxin. That would paralyze you instantly," Miranda's brain was clearly working at top speed as she laid out possible analyses.

_Dammit. Two days and a bottle of wine now._

"What happened next Veetor?" he asked gently.

"The monsters took them to their ship, and the ship left. But they'll be back for me. No one escapes. No one."

Towards the end of the sentence, Veetor's agitation was beginning to break through despite the powerful calming charm on him. Clearly he was extremely distressed.

"Thank you for talking to us Veetor," he concluded, knowing it would be useless to question him anymore. But Veetor spoke up on his own.

"I studied them you know. With my omnitool. Lots of readings. Lots of data. Energy. Electromagnetic. Dark."

Miranda's eyes widened at what Veetor had said.

"Shepard, we should get the data back to Cerberus as soon as possible," she urged him, "Call in transport to pick us and the quarian up."

"What?" came Tali's shocked voice as the door opened and she walked in, "Veetor is injured. He needs treatment, not an interrogation!"

"We just need to get some information. We'll return him completely unharmed," Jacob was doing his best to assuage Tali. He was reminded again that there was some bad blood between Cerberus and the quarians.

"You're people tried to betray us once already," Miranda cut in coldly, 'We'll never get the information we need if we give him to you."

Tali threw her hands up in frustration. What probably made it worse was the fact that Miranda had a good point.

"Prazza was an idiot, and clearly you saw them pay the price. Take his omnitool, it has all the information you'll need. Just let me take him."

A faint note of begging had entered her voice towards the end of the sentence, and he felt an irrational anger at that. A friend should never have to beg with him. A part of him was tempted to ask her to join him. But he couldn't. Not until he sorted things out for himself. He turned to face Miranda.

"The omnitool should have the data you need, right?"

Miranda nodded tersely, though she looked a little displeased.

"Then take Veetor and get him help, Tali. We'll take the data with us. I'd appreciate it if you passed on any more information he might have to me."

"Thank you, Shepard," Tali replied gratefully, "I'm glad you're still the one giving orders."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied cheerfully, gently leading Veetor to Tali.

"Good luck out there Shepard," she said, and began walking away quickly with Veetor, who was surprisingly contained as he followed Tali. No doubt the possibility of getting away from the Collectors was enough to focus him.

"Our ride's here," announced Jacob. Harry nodded absently, his eyes focused on the screens, which were frozen at a picture of a Collector. Then his eyes lost their intensity, and he turned to grin at Jacob and Miranda.

"Right then. Let's go back. Jacob, do you know where you can get your hands on some wine?"

* * *

"Shepard. Good work on Freedom's Progress."

"Twinkles," he greeted brightly, staring once again at the projection of the Illusive Man. To his credit, the Illusive Man didn't even bat an eyelid at the name.

"We got a surprising olive branch from the quarians. They sent us the transcript of the interview they had with Veetor."

"Some you get with the carrot, some you get with the stick," he threw back easily. He truly believed so. His friends he always treated well. People like Draco, on the other hand, had needed..._motivation_ once in a while.

"Indeed. More importantly, you confirmed that the Collectors are behind the abductions."

Harry raised an eyebrow, not missing the way that sentence had been phrased.

"To say it was confirmed implies you had suspicions."

"I suspected many things. What I need was proof. Until now, the Collectors have been reclusive, but not hostile."

Harry nodded noncommittally. This was a man who liked to keep his cards close to the chest, and he did so with the full knowledge that this would probably not endear him to most people. It reminded him uncomfortably of Dumbledore, but he pushed those thoughts away. He hadn't known this man nearly long enough for there to be any level of trust between them.

"This Omega 4 Relay...what makes it different?"

"No ship that passed through it has ever returned."

_Oh. That'd make it pretty different indeed._

"And why humans specifically?"

"My guess is that we drew their attention in the war against Sovereign and the geth," the Illusive Man replied thoughtfully, his seated pose as immaculate as ever.

_He must practice in front of a mirror._

"What I'm more concerned by is that they're abducting colonists, and not killing them."

Harry nodded, understanding what the head of Cerberus was trying to say. Abducting them took more effort and time, so there had to be a line of thought behind doing it.

"And how do you know the Collectors are working for the Reapers, and not just moving on their own?"

"I can't be certain, of course, but there are patterns. The timing between the Sovereign attack, your death, the beginnings of the abductions. I find it hard to believe the Collectors just happened to pick this time to begin moving openly. And we both know they like using other races as pawns."

He shrugged. Until they knew for sure one way or another, he was bound by his promise to John. And even if they weren't connected to the Reapers, he knew deep down that he would stop them. To some extent, he had inherited John's will to protect. And the bastard had wanted to protect every single life form he could.

_Ambitious much? I'm starting to think I got the bum end of this deal._

His gaze flicked back to the Illusive Man.

"I sincerely hope you're going to give me more than two officers and a shuttle if you want this done."

New screens popped into life around the Illusive Man, contained pictures and text that were too small to decipher from where he stood.

"I've already prepared a list of soldiers, scientists, mercenaries, the best of them. It's up to you to convince them to join you. You'll have Cerberus resources at your disposal of course."

_Great. Before I play soldier, I get to play salesperson._

But he was rather pleased, despite his line of thought. He liked to be involved with recruitment, for it told him much about the person in question, and had a much greater chance of their loyalty being to him personally, rather than to Cerberus.

"I'll continue to track the Collectors, and let you know when they appear again. You and your team will have to move immediately when that happens."

_Translated: Scramble to where they are before they disappear behind their damn relay again._

Harry shifted slightly, wondering when he should inquire into "his" former teammates. But no. It was why he hadn't asked Tali to join him in the first place. He had no doubt that Shepard's friends would notice the difference. He would be better off if he _started_ with a fresh team.

"Anything else?" he asked, rather annoyed by having to stand inside a circle for so long.

"Yes. I've found you a pilot I think you'll like. I hear he's one of the best."

At this the Illusive Man cut the holographic feed, and the image began to unravel.

_What do you know. He likes to be dramatic once in a while._

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned around. First he could only see a faint silhouette, for orange light was still dying away around him. He stepped away from the circle, and his heart constricted as he saw who the pilot assigned to him was.

_Oh boy. So much for staying away from his former friends._

"Joker!"

* * *

**A/N: I'll try to keep future notes short, but I'm sure you understand that the price of interaction is long author notes. First, some readers were kind enough to point out that I mentioned 'galaxy' when I should have said 'solar systems'. I know. The narrative voice is near Harry most of the time, so it reflects Harry's way of thinking to a large extent. And he himself hasn't placed too much focus on the nuances of the terms. But I think the execution was unclear, so I apologize for any confusion it caused, and thank the people who took the time to point it out.**

**Secondly, anonymous reviews - From the time I post this chapter, I will be deleting them. I apologize to those people who don't have an account and genuinely want to let me know what they think. But you guys are in a minority. For the most part, anonymity is used as a venting mechanism for people who lead very sad lives. And if I pick and choose which anonymous reviews to keep and which ones to delete, I'll be accused of allowing only favorable reviews to stay on. **

**Also, I hope it's clear that while I cherish every opinion I get regarding the story, the final decision is mine to make. That doesn't mean I won't continue to ask for your thoughts, since having multiple perspectives can only be a good thing. **

**The next question for you guys:**

**Would you like more people from the old team to return while the ME2 plotline is still on? If yes, why? If no, why not?**

**As always, please drop me line letting me know what you think.**

**SK.**


	4. Chapter 3 - A Stroll Down Memory Lane

**As I write this note, I'm in Singapore and having the time of my life. I'm cramming as much as I can into every day, since this isn't exactly something that happens often. Unfortunately the downside is that I get less time to write, which is why this update is a little later than my normal pace. Still, I found the time to put this up while still here, so that's something.**

**A lot of people made a fair point when they responded saying that ME3 was the point where they missed having more characters, not ME2. Wrex needs to be where he is, Liara becomes busy when she takes on a tasking mantle, I really don't like Ashley, and Garrus signs on anyway. So you're right, not a lot to change in this particular segment. I think I might try to make their "guest appearances" more awesome though. Maybe find a way to get Wrex in on the Mordin mission. I guess time will tell.**

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own ME or HP. Anonymous reviews will be removed without exception.**

**Note:**** I'd like to thank Philosophize, who continues to help with my writing process. The idea for Harry's mindscape was his, so if you liked it, you know where to say it.**

* * *

A slight breeze wafted through the deserted street he walked down, playing with his already unkempt hair with a ghostly touch. The houses he walked past seemed to be bustling with activity however, filling the air with a cacophony of lights and sounds. They were decoys, of course, designed to lure in those that would intrude upon his domain without invitation. What would happen to intruders if they entered one of these houses would...not be pleasant.

His eyes did not even attempt to mask the sense of sorrow and nostalgia he felt as he walked through such a familiar road. Memories reared their heads, unbidden and uninvited. But this was his domain, the one place where he could push them away firmly without fear of repercussions. And he did so. Now was not the time to be overwhelmed. He had work to do.

The houses seemed to be numbered with a glaring oversight, for immediately after #11 was #13. It was as if the street itself had forgotten that a house numbered #12 once lay in their midst. This too was his design, for that was the house where the path to his true memories lay. Recreating the effects of a Fidelius had been all too easy when he had progressed far enough in Occlumency. It helped that for the master Occlumens, his mind was his realm solely. Here, he was the secret keeper. And the secret had never been passed to another.

Even as he focused his intent, a disturbance was created between #11 and #13. It was as if a house had been squashed between the two of them, and now fought to resume its own shape once more. Wood flowed like liquid, clawing between the houses that imprisoned it. Even as the houses on either side seemed to move away, the wood resumed the shape it was meant to take, forming the bones of a ghostly house. Then color and stone began to flow through the skeleton, and what finally stood before him was a house, dank and intimidating. He could never bring himself to make it more cheerful. That was not how things had been after all.

He dithered on the threshold of the house for a few seconds, before finally working up the nerve to push the door open.

Dust. Every inch of the interior was filled with a thick coating of dust. Cobwebs seemed to take the place of tapestries, hanging copiously everywhere his eyes turned. His heart fell to his stomach. This was what he had been afraid of - nay, dreaded. His mindscape was in a state of complete and utter disrepair.

The Crossroads was a place of stasis. As a part of Death itself, they were as harshly unchanging as the entity was. Death would never change - not at its core, and neither would the crossroads. It was why souls could never stay too long in the Crossroads. The very essence of a human was dynamism. New stimuli, thoughts, feelings, desires and connections - a lot or all of these were at the very essence of the human experience. Indeed, of all living experience. He was certain that Death dealt with the souls of all lifeforms, though it had never said as much to him.

_Well, I suppose the dust does make it look more like the original. Though that was before the Weasley mother got there. The woman knew how to clean, I have to admit_ he thought to himself wryly. Sirius had gone into shock at seeing the mansion look so clean. It had come as a consolation when Lupin announced that a few reclusive dark creatures still roamed the mansion. "Makes it feel more like home" he had announced jubilantly, making the Order stare at him as if he were mad.

A mindscape was much like an engine. It ran well while there was a steady supply of fuel - in this case, new memories, experiences and emotions, among other things. That supply had dried out over the centuries he had spent at the Crossroads, throwing his mindscape into the state he saw before him.

_Well, first things first._

His eyes strayed to a large portrait of a sleeping woman. The woman was dark-haired and highly intimidating, even in sleep.

_If Sirius had known the day would come when I'd voluntarily wake the old hag up, even a mental construct of her...I would say he was rolling in his grave if I didn't already know better._

He slammed his hand forcefully into the wall near the portrait, waking the sleeping woman with a start. Immediately she swelled imperiously, insane eyes darting around her as she cried:

"FILTH! SCUM! DIRTYING THE HOUSE OF MY FOREFATHERS!"

Then her eyes fell on him, whereupon she literally looked close to exploding with rage.

"YOU! SPAWN OF MUGGLE-LOVING FREAKS! DESECRATOR! I OUGHT TO-"

He rolled his eyes and muttered "Mute." Immediately the sound was cut off, leaving her gesticulating wildly as she mouthed even more obscenities. She was the addition to his mindscape he could never quite get used to. But as a sentry, she was unmatched. Any intruder into his mindscape would not make it past the threshold undetected while she kept watch, for in the end, she was a creation of his own mind and could not betray him.

"Right. Guarddog's awake. Now, I need some help getting this place back into shape," he muttered as he looked around the mansion. He had added two other intelligent facets to his mindscape. Two friends who had stayed with him until the very end, when he had made the decision to depart from the living world. Two friends who had insisted on being added to his mindscape, that they might help him even in death.

"DOBBY! KREACHER!"

His voice echoed through the silent halls for a moment, before the house elves appeared in front of him with simultaneous cracks. His heart constricted slightly as he saw the familiar sight of Dobby bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement, even as Kreacher looked at him with a slightly surly expression. That had never changed, even when the two house elves had been been some of the oldest beings alive after a point.

"Nasty master finally be remembering us," muttered Kreacher, earning an ugly glare from Dobby.

"Harry Potter be greatest wizard ever! Black house be nasty. Cutting elf heads off!"

"Good master not let us sleep for hundreds of years," shot back Kreacher, making Dobby's ears droop slightly.

"Dobby be bored and alone," the normally cheerful house elf admitted, staring at the floor fixedly.

He looked at the two of them with amused exasperation. He had taken hours to ensure that these facets of his mind were as close to the original as possible. Their personalities, everything. But at the end of the day, they paled in comparison to the actual house elves, for they were merely crafted out of his own mind as part of his mindscape.

"I'm sorry I forgot you two. BUT I do have a helluva present as an apology!" he finished grandly, gesturing at the mess that surrounded them.

"This all be for Dobby?" asked Dobby, surveying the dust and dirt around him with wide eyes.

"Master be bribing us with work," muttered Kreacher, though even he looked marginally less surly at the prospect of working once more.

He grunted as Dobby tackled his leg with a hug, determined to squeeze the life out of his limbs in a show of affection.

_Maybe I shouldn't have made them too much like the original._

"Harry Potter really be best master ever!"

_I never could understand how they're excited by the prospect of work_ he thought amusedly as the house elves sprang into action. He had built them into the very core of his mindscape, which meant they could help him build it back up to the mark. Of course, it was really a part of his own mind rebuilding the rest of it. The mechanics of creating semi-autonomous entities within his mindscape confused even him at times, for theory had not exactly been the focus in the middle of a war.

The kitchen door bulged ominously as he drew close to it, as if it was barely staying closed. He edged towards it gingerly, having a good idea as to what was straining against it so heavily. Even as he drew close, the door fell open of its own accord.

A flood of angry-red letters burst into the hallway, the kitchen no longer able to contain the full amount of the letters. He almost yelped, but managed to contain himself at the last minute. This was how alien memories or information was presented to him. It was a system he had devised for when he used Legilimency on his enemies, looking for information about hideouts or names or anything else he could use.

_Well, when I came up with the system, I wasn't expecting a lifetime's worth of memories to enter my mind at once_ he thought plaintively. Each letter had to be opened and inspected before it could be integrated with his mindscape. Voldemort had waged mental warfare like no other, and sometimes even memories had been set as dangerous traps, designed to implode within his mind when inspected.

_Wonder how snakeface is doing in his special little place in the afterlife_ he mused almost fondly as he surveyed the massive pile of letters he had to sift through. Death did not take kindly to people who tried to cheat it.

Resigned to his fate, he picked up the first envelope. The envelope immediately burst into a silvery flame, burying itself into the mental projection of itself. A wave of memories washed over him. Memories of a childhood spent looking into space from an intimate distance, of a childhood surrounded by soldiers and discipline. The child - no, _he_ had always wanted to be a soldier. Military blood ran through his veins, as did the voice of command.

He opened his eyes as he allowed the memories to assimilate with his own. It was disconcerting, to suddenly feel like he had lived two different childhood. On the one side, his own childhood full of neglect and cruelty. On the other, a childhood in an environment where he had been loved, though never coddled. But he could no longer identify one as his own and the other as someone else's. Both childhoods were his now, as contradictory as it was to his rational self. This was what it meant to truly assimilate another's memories as his own. Hannah Shepard was now his mother, as much as Lily Potter was also his mother.

He shook his head and picked up the next envelope. This would be one long Occlumency session.

**Captain's Cabin - Normandy SR2 - 7 AM**

"YES! I AM NO LONGER HARRY OR SHEPARD! I AM...SHARRY!"

"_Shepard, you appear to to be exhibiting verbal signs of delirium. Shall I send Dr. Chakwas to assist you?"_

"...No, EDI, thank you."

"_Very well, Commander."_

"Hey, EDI?"

"_Yes, Shepard?"_

"Any chance you can keep this little incident just between the two of us?"

* * *

He cranked his neck to either side, hearing satisfying noises that alleviated the stress his muscles were feeling. He had used the entire night to work on his mindscape. Strangely, his mind did not feel tired or sluggish. Occlumency never brought with it the fatigue that would have followed a night of continuous work, for reasons he had never concerned himself about. Pondering such questions had always been Padma's terrain, and he hadn't wanted to encroach upon her territory.

_Who am I kidding? I just sucked at trying to figure those questions out_ the voice in his head rebutted mercilessly, even as he strapped on his armor. The casual clothes available in his locker had been twice the amount of awkwardness, with none of the protection that the armor offered. Luckily, they were almost upon Omega, or so Kelly's message to his terminal had read. The horrible casual clothes could be replaced when he landed.

Kelly Chambers had been a contradiction from the moment he had met her. She had broadcasted absolutely no negative emotions, and if anything, was honestly excited about being part of his crew. But the function she performed put him on his guard heavily. Psychology was rather scary, in a way legilimency was not. While far more inaccurate, it could be a deadly tool if wielded correctly, as it relied on things his Occlumency could not block or control. Above all, it was impossible to dislike someone who was so...earnest and open.

_Well played, Twinkle Eyes_ he thought bitterly as he finished strapping on his armor. He had no doubt that Kelly was serving a hidden agenda, even though she herself was unaware of the fact. That she wasn't conscious of it just ensured that he couldn't ignore her or treat her with hostility.

_**Very**__ well played, twinkle eyes_.

The sight that had most worried him at first had in fact been the least problematic. Joker had been so relieved to see he was alive that he didn't even seem to notice that Shepard was different. Or perhaps he had, but chalked it down to two years of being dead. Either way, Harry had enjoyed the camaraderie with Joker greatly, especially the pilot's dark sense of humor. So long as he didn't do something too out of character, he was safe as far as the pilot was concerned.

He moved swiftly to the elevator, feeling more in control than he had in millenia. He had been able to completely assimilate most of the information left over from Shepard's time, including muscle memory. He now felt like the inhabitant of this body, rather than a visitor. The one part of Shepard's mind he hadn't touched was the part where Shepard's moral codes and outlooks on life were housed. That stack of envelopes was still in his mindscape, untouched. He didn't want to sacrifice the outlook on life he had now, for his own outlook was the product of centuries, while Shepard's outlook was merely the product of a couple of decades. His own might be more cynical, but it was also the more tried and tested outlook.

_Well, leaving that aside, I now have a mother who's still alive. That's weird_ he mused with some amusement as he as he reached the galactic map. Chambers was already at her station, looking as cheerful as ever.

_She's got enough goodwill in her to make up for all the others on the ship_ he thought amusedly, remembering the interaction between Miranda and Kelly when they had first boarded the Normandy. It had been such a stark contrast that he had burst into laughter, which did nothing to endear himself to Miranda, though it had broken the ice with Kelly, who had looked to be in awe of him for the first few minutes. It reminded him uncomfortably of the Boy-Who-Lived period of his life.

"Commander!" Kelly greeted brightly, though she was noticeably more formal than she had been before, "We're about to dock at Omega."

"EDI, what's the status on Jacob and Miranda?" Harry asked easily, nodding at Kelly. He was rather excited by the prospect of having more people on the team - people who weren't quite as affiliated with Cerberus as the Cerberus agents were. Jacob had told him straight out that he had never fully trusted Cerberus. Harry's regard for the man had increased exponentially after that. Blind trust was never a good thing, for it reminded him too much of the Order. Without questioning and innovation, they had only proved to be a temporary obstacle for the Death Eaters.

"_I have informed them both. They will join you when you are ready to disembark."_

"Thank you m'love," he responded cheerily, while Kelly shot him an amused look.

"Somehow I imagined Commander Shepard being more...well, strict," she informed him.

"Only when it's necessary. And sometimes for fun," he winked mischievously. He was definitely in a good mood today, not surprisingly, for it had been the conflict within his mind that had made him irritable and distant. With his mind in order, he found himself thinking more clearly, especially as far as the world he was in was concerned. Now he knew what each term signified, and would no longer confuse galaxies with solar systems, or a thermal clip with a "heat weapon thingy".

_That was an especially embarrassing one_ he pondered idly as he flicked through his "private" terminal that was no doubt bugged by at least a few people in Cerberus. The Illusive Man appeared to have sent him some weapons and armor, clearly a gesture of goodwill. The correspondence from specific people he left for later, though the name 'Anderson' caught his eye before he stepped away from the terminal.

_I can't keep avoiding these people. I'm going to need every single one of them and more if I need to beat these Reapers._

Even as he thought of the word 'reaper' he felt an ancient rage burst into a sun-like radiance within him. Death was not happy with these entities taking upon its work and perverting the boundaries between life and death.

He was more confident about interacting with these faces from the past now that the level of his assimilation with Shepard was very high. Indeed, he _was_ Shepard in a lot of senses. But first, he had some recruiting to do.

"EDI, send me the dossiers of the people I'm gonna have to find in Omega. Oh, and a spot of tea for for the shuttle please."

* * *

Omega appeared to be a slightly more advanced version of Knockturn Alley. Harry immediately felt more at home as his mind made the association. For as much as that alley had been a place of fear for him the first few years, it had become an invaluable part of the war against Voldemort. It had not been too long until he felt completely at ease as he strolled through Knockturn alley. And now he found himself looking at a much larger version of it.

They had only just begun venturing into Omega, when already they found themselves being approached by a batarian. He was clearly an enforcer of some sort, if his gait and the reaction of the people around him was anything to go by. He smiled slightly at the sight, but otherwise ignored the batarian even when he had all but run into him. This seemed to ignore the batarian immensely. He was probably not used to being ignored on Omega.

Jacob looked as stoic as ever, but Harry had the feeling that he was not comfortable in the least with his surroundings.

_It makes sense. Jacob has lived the life of an honorable soldier. Everything in Omega must go against his principles._

"Blasted scavengers," growled the batarian, waving away the many life forms that had already begun to surround them, no doubt seeking to exploit them in some manner.

"I've heard better opening lines," he deadpanned, seeking to bait the batarian some more. Anyone who couldn't control themselves well was not worth his time, not in the long run. The true reins of power would always be held by those with control.

"Welcome to Omega...Shepard," sneered the batarian, pronouncing his name as if it would be a great blow to his confidence. It was a well thought out move, for both Miranda and Jacob looked visibly surprised that his presence had already been detected in Omega. But he knew full well the power that these criminal communities possessed - an information network that could rival even military organizations. It was why criminal presence had been tolerated so openly in Magical Britain.

"You have me at a disadvantage, buddy," he replied with false cheer, showing no visible reaction to his name, "And I don't think you'd take kindly to any of the generic names other races call you."

There it was, a flash of anger. Batarians had always held a grudge against humans, he knew as much from John's memories. Miranda had the ghost of a smile on her face. Clearly she knew what he was trying to do.

"Moklan," the batarian replied tightly. It took him a moment to realize that he was introducing himself, and not cursing him in a different language.

"Well then, to what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked easily. He had poked at the batarian for long enough to get an idea about the kind of personality he had. He would no doubt need the aid of Aria T'Loak - there was no doubt that she was the power in Omega - for him to navigate Omega effectively. So he wouldn't outrightly turn anyone hostile. Not yet, at any rate.

"Aria wants to know what a dead Spectre is doing in Omega. I suggest you make Afterlife your first stop in Omega."

_She must really be used to instant obedience. I would hate to disappoint her_ he thought with mock sincerity. He could not afford to present the image of a subordinate. But he didn't have to tell Moklan that.

"Well why don't you run along and arrange for refreshments, and I'll turn up there in a few minutes," he dismissed Moklan brightly before walking past him. To Moklan's credit, the batarian didn't try to physically stop him.

"Well done, Shepard," Miranda spoke in a low voice, "Keeping them on their toes."

His eyes widened at that, and he was glad the duo behind him couldn't see his surprise. He actually had seen to it that a bottle of wine had reached Miranda for her performance on Freedom's Progress, which had softened her stance towards him, but only slightly.

_I...I'm going to pretend that never happened_ he swore to himself shakily. Perhaps the fumes on Omega had gotten to her.

"UGH!" grunted a voice, and his eyes flicked back to the sight in front of him. A man in a yellow and steel-like armor had just kneed a batarian viciously in the stomach, causing him to drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A man who looked a lot like a dossier he had been sent while on the shuttle.

"That's one of the potentials, Shepard. Zaeed Massani. Brutal son of a bitch," Jacob spoke in a low voice, distaste clear in his tone.

"You Zaeed Massani?" he asked blandly, wishing heartily that this particular batarian had been Moklan. Wouldn't that have been a sight to see.

"Yeah, that's me," the man replied gruffly, turning around to face them.

_Soul brother!_ Harry's inner voice called out, recognizing the familiarity of Zaeed's accent. It was one he had not heard in a very long time.

_Right. Calling a stranger my soul brother is creepy, even by my standards_ he snorted internally as he studied the mercenary. He was rather old, which meant he was one hell of a soldier. One did not get to age in the mercenary lifestyle without being good at what they dead.

"Heard we have a galaxy to save. What a pain in the ass," continued Zaeed, turning back and kicking the batarian to make sure he was down.

"Escapee?" Harry asked conversationally, ignoring the batarian's plea for help.

"Yeah. This one pissed off the wrong people. Jellyfish, most of 'em. Easy money," he grunted, facing Harry once more.

"Saving the galaxy also means a legendary payoff, Massani. Do this, and it's a few less jellyfish you have to fish for."

"You don't have to tell me. Your Illusive Man can move a lot of credits. Enough for me sign up for a suicide mission."

Harry snorted. He gathered most of the people in the know felt the same way.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on dying just because we need to do what no one's ever done before."

Zaeed laughed harshly, "You're alright, Shepard. Let me just get this one squared away."

He gestured to the batarian with the pistol in his hand, and the unfortunate mark staggered to his feet, still looking disoriented.

"I assume the Illusive Man told you about our arrangement?" Zaeed asked him, making him frown by a miniscule amount. He tilted his head slightly in Miranda's direction.

"He thought it would be better if you heard it from the horse's mouth, since you have the final call on hiring," came Miranda's usual tone. He nodded slightly.

"Picked up a little mission before I got contacted by Cerberus. Vido Santiago. Leader of the Blue Suns."

Even without actively using Legilimency, Harry could feel the hatred and anger radiating off the mercenary. It wasn't poisonous in a way that it had taken him over. Soldiers often developed a funny way of holding on to anger and revenge without letting it overpower them. It made some of them great fighters. But this emotion was old. Rooted. And directed at this Vido Santiago.

"He captured this refinery on Zorya and he's using the workers there as slave labor. The company wants him gone."

"And you need my help to do it," affirmed Harry. It wasn't a question.

"I'm good. Hell, I'm among the best. But I can't take out an entire bloody occupying force. So if you need me on this little mission of yours…"

"Fair enough," agreed Harry, even as the batarian prisoner began to run away, no doubt thinking that they were too engrossed in their conversation. Zaeed brought up his gun immediately, but Harry struck first, hurtling biotic-like energy that hit the batarian, making him collide into the nearby wall.

"Saves you a shot," he shrugged. Zaeed nodded and began to walk towards the escapee, "Better turn this bounty in before it tries to jump off a railing. I'll be locked and loaded next time you need me."

"I like him," Harry informed his squad cheerfully before proceeding to walk deeper into Omega.

"Not sure that's a good thing," Jacob muttered as he followed behind.

* * *

_Harry grimaced as the bartender placed a glass in front of him, with what passed for firewhisky inside it. Dust and grime coated the glass so thickly that he had no idea what the original glass had looked like. The bartender knew him well, but it was certainly not reflected in his service. Perhaps it was better. A clean glass in a place like this would stick out like Albus Dumbledore's style statement, or lack thereof._

"_I wonder if these bastards actually buy these glasses this way," grimaced Neville, surveying his own glass with distaste._

"_It would explain why all dirty glasses look uniformly dirty," Harry muttered as he gingerly pushed his glass away from him. He wasn't here for the alcohol anyway._

"_Oh please," snorted Neville, pulling out a hip flask that contained the liquor he distilled from his own greenhouse "You love this place."_

"_It's one of the few places where people don't give a shit about who you are," shrugged Harry as he took in the noisy ambience with a peaceful look on his face. It was a disproportionate expression, for a bottle had just smashed into the wall near him, showering the wooden floor with pieces of broken glass._

"_They also don't give a shit about anything else. Unless they actually physically-"_

"_Don't...complete that sentence. Please. We all know those blots on the walls aren't decorative paint," grimaced Harry, all traces of the previous peace gone._

"_Just be thankful we have cleaning charms," muttered Neville, taking a small sip from the hipflask._

"_Got a smoke?" came a third, slurred voice, and the duo turned to face Mundungus Fletcher, who looked as much a pile of rags as ever as he stood near Harry's seat before sidling into the empty chair between them. He immediately reached for the glass of firewhisky Harry had pushed away before downing it in a single gulp._

"_But not even your overpowered cleaning charms are going to make a difference here," Neville spoke acerbically as he surveyed Mundungus. Trying to steal a Longbottom heirloom was not the best way for anyone to endear themselves to the Longbottom scion._

_The bum-like man chose to not acknowledge the remark in any way. Perhaps it was fear from the consequences he had faced after the attempted theft. Harry had never seen a Venomous Tentacula be used so...creatively It was hard to read the thief's facial expression, given that most of his face was covered with wrinkles or hair._

"_Got yer ruddy information," Mundungus muttered as he searched the pockets of his patched overcoat, bringing up items that looked vaguely illegal as he did so. It was nothing Harry didn't already have. Cones of silence were predominant, not surprisingly so._

"_Anytime you're ready, Dung," Harry spoke idly, gesturing to the barmaid to refill the thief's glass. Fletcher actually functioned better with alcohol than without, which was something of a miracle given that his profession required stealth. _

"_Ah screw the paper," Mundungus gave up, preferring instead to accept the refill that the barmaid charmed to their table, "Madame Valerie says to tell you she accepts your offer."_

_Harry suddenly sat up straight, green eyes gleaming with intense focus. There was no trace of the idle man who had lounged in the dingy bar. Neville was no different. _

"_What changed? The last time we contacted her, she told us she had no interest in taking sides."_

_Mundungus looked uncharacteristically serious, "The Death Eaters. A low level one entered her business, chose a girl. Thirty minutes later, she found that girl tortured and dead in one of the rooms. The Death Eater was sloshed outta his mind, yelling about how scum had no place in the new order that would begin soon. He's...dead now."_

"_I told you that was one woman you didn't want to piss off," Neville shuddered slightly._

"_Amen," Mundungus nodded earnestly, "Found that out the hard way when I...Anyways, she tells me they started it, and she'll be damned if she doesn't finish it. All the information she gets is yours. From her establishment and others. You've got the entire network boy. And all because one idiot Death Eater thought they didn't matter."_

_Now magic began to swirl around Harry's form, wild magic that moved with a life of its own, flaring with an intensity that made the air thrum. The barmaid looked as if nothing was happening out of the ordinary, while the patrons were too drunk to care. Choosing this place as a base had been one of his better decisions._

"_Neville my friend, the war is already half won."_

* * *

Harry sighed as he surveyed the situation around him. Music beat into his eardrums with a primal pulse, and colors ducked and wove around the dark room in a way that was hypnotic. And there were the batarian bodyguards who were holding him at gunpoint. Miranda and Jacob had responded enthusiastically with their own weapons. He ignored the scene around him, preferring instead to look serenely at Aria T'Loak, who was simply surveying the scene before her with indifference.

"I doubt you invited us to your er...headquarters just to hold us at gunpoint," pointed out, shooting a glare at a batarian who shifted his gun even closer to Harry's face after he spoke. He was tempted to melt the gun through his hands, but resisted the impulse.

_Asari. Beings who possess some form of Legilimency. Thankfully, they seem to need physical contact and lots of concentration to do that. _

His heart clenched as his mind brought up _how_ John knew this. Liara T'Soni. John had loved her, and it had left its mark on his body. But love was an emotion connected to the soul, so while Harry would feel greatly affectionate towards the asari scientist, he would not love her. He tore his mind away from the subject, for it raised issues he had no idea how to handle. And the asari in front of him was perhaps one of the most dangerous beings in the Terminus systems.

"Maybe I'm whimsical. Maybe I decided to cash in on the many, many bounties placed on you by people you pissed off," Aria spoke softly, eyes glinting dangerously as she surveyed them. He couldn't risk using Legilimency on her, not without knowing whether or not asari could detect it.

"Maybe you will at that," he replied evenly, "But money is hardly a problem for the ruler of Omega, is it?"

At this a faint smile made its way to the asari's lips, and she sat down delicately, surveying him for a few seconds longer before finally gesturing to a seat next to her. Immediately the batarians holstered their weapons and returned to their positions. Apparently the drama was over. He signalled for Miranda and Jacob to stay at a reasonable distance, and they did so, though they continued to survey the batarians warily.

"I hear you run the best information desk on Omega," he began brightly, seating himself comfortably on the couch.

"I don't _run_ anything," Aria cut across him, laughing slowly though there was no mirth in her eyes "I _am_ Omega. But of course you need something. Everyone needs something. And that's why they come to me. Ruler, queen, information desk, I don't care what you call me, as long as you remember the one rule you need to follow on Omega."

_She IS Omega? Do they even make clothes in the planetary size? _spoke the snide voice in his mind, but he resisted the impulse to voice the thought out loud. Something told him Aria didn't get to where she was with a sense of humor.

"What's the one rule?" he asked curiously.

"Don't. Fuck. With. Aria." she spoke slowly and clearly, authority lacing every syllable. There was no overt hostility, only power. His expression grew serious in response.

"Wouldn't dream of it, unless you give me reason to. Like trying to kill me or my people," he responded coolly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Normally I'd call that suicidal," Aria hissed in response, and the guards on either side of her tensed.

"But. I know of your capabilities. So tell me, what brings you to my territory?" she finished, and the hostility left her poise as she leaned back against the couch. Immediately a server climbed up the stairs, bearing drinks he didn't know the name of. He wisely left them untouched, preferring instead to focus on the remaining people he had to hire.

"Doctor Mordin Solus. I know he's on Omega, but I don't know where," he began. It was the optimal place to begin, as countermeasures depended entirely on his capabilities.

"The salarian," replied Aria immediately, a smile on her face, 'I always liked that crazy bastard. He can shoot you as easily as treat you."

_It's the salarian Madam Pomfrey!_ shouted his inner voice.

"The entire area he's in has been quarantined because of the plague. Good luck getting in, better luck getting him out. He's trying to cure the plague," she finished off handedly. He frowned. This made things complicated. He would need to learn more about this plague as well as the quarantine measures before he could even attempt to retrieve Mordin.

_No plan survives first contact huh. I want to smack the guy who said that_ he sulked internally, but was already moving on the next question.

"We heard whispers that Archangel is in Omega. Some sort of trouble with the mercs?"

Aria laughed harshly, "Trouble is understating it. This guy pissed off the Blue Suns, the Blood Pack and the Eclipse. He's been raining hell down on those bastards, but the way I hear it, it's only a matter of time before they get him."

_Right. That moves him up the priority chain. Anyone who can piss off three mercenary groups is gonna be a great addition._

He stood up before nodding at Aria, "Thanks for the help. We're gonna head out and see what we can do."

"Whatever. You wanna get close to Archangel, the merc recruiter over there is your best bet," was the only reply he got, with Aria already turning away to look over her club.

"So, Jacob, pop quiz for you," he spoke as they headed away from the bodyguards, "What does it take to pummel three of the biggest mercenary groups as well as a dangerous plague?"

"...I need a drink," muttered Jacob as he headed towards the bar with a nonplussed look. Miranda had already begun to bark instructions through the comm network, leaving him to take in the ah..._interesting _sights around the club. A veritable ocean of new and untried liquor glittered invitingly at him. He decided to join Jacob at the bar counter. But then a horrifying sight caught his eye.

"Jacob, look at these glasses!"

"What about them, Shepard?" asked Jacob, already downing his first glass of whatever it was he was drinking.

"They're...they're clean!" Harry exclaimed, looking horrified at the notion of a criminal bar having clean glasses.

"What d'you mean? They're supposed to b- You know what? Never mind. Just drink," Jacob sighed, gesturing to the bartender for another glass.

* * *

**Cerberus Headquarters**

"Sir, we have the latest report EDI sent about the Normandy and Shepard," spoke the aide, and the Illusive Man looked up from the many reports he was reading through. Information would have to be reorganized before it reached his feed, which was why the priority reports were delivered to him separately as soon as they were received.

"Anything of note?" he asked the aide, even though he had already begun reading it at a blistering pace. It gave the aides a sense of pride to know their opinions were valued. It ensured loyalty.

"EDI continues to flag Shepard's behavior as erratic, even after she was asked to take his particular situation into account. She ranked it at the lowest of priorities, but I'm curious as to why it's there at all. She's definitely smart enough that she should be able to pick and choose."

"_**It.**_ Not she. It," stressed the Illusive Man, glaring the aide. It was distressing, how they had begun to treat an expendable tool as a human being. Giving the scientists the liberty to pick its voice had been a mistake. "Does it specify any future steps that need to be taken?"

"No sir. Sh- It merely notes the continuation of erratic behavior."

"Then leave it. We have other matters that require our attention."

"Yes, sir. About Project Overlord...should we enlist the Commander's aid?"

The Illusive Man took a deep drag of the cigarette in his hands, seemingly looking idly out into space.

"No. His sentimentality will lose us a valuable asset. Continue to analyze the situation. We bring him in only if all other means fail."

"Very well, sir."

"Has Shepard begun his recruitment?"

"They've already found Zaeed Massani. The credits for his services have already been sent."

The aide paused here, as if regretting the expenditure of so much money on one man. But he was in no mood to accommodate questions or doubt. His cold expression told the aide as much, and the man quickly continued his report.

"The latest report seems to hint at them going after Archangel next, but it's too early for us to be sure."

The Illusive Man hesitated before dismissing the aide.

"Send a salvage team to the Lazarus station. Tell them to recover every file they can on Shepard. We'll have our analysts run them in different angles and gain some insight into Shepard's behavior."

He had invested considerable resources into bringing back the Commander. A defective revival could not spearhead the charge against the reapers. He would not **allow** it to happen.

* * *

**The number of reviews continue to exceed my expectations. I love it. It encourages me to write, knowing so many people like the story enough to drop me some very detailed ideas and analyses to help me along. I may not have been able to reply to all of them, but I read and took every single one into account. So thank you for that.**

**Now, another significant question for you guys:**

**How would you like to see Cerberus handled in this story?**

**It's a huge part of the plot, obviously, so I can't promise to go with a route that makes me uncomfortable. But if I'm given ideas that I actually like or can accommodate into the story, what hopefully emerges will be a great story.**

**As always, drop me a line letting me know what you think about this chapter.**

**SK.**


	5. Chapter 4 - Old Friend? New Friend?

**Author's Note:**

**Back from Singapore, and I enjoyed every minute of that vacation. So much stimuli made me lose the momentum I'd sort of gained, however, which is why this next chapter is a little late. That and an entrance exam that had a hellish amount of GK involved. Thankfully, the creative juices are back on track, and we'll be able to get back to the regular pace after the release of this chapter.**

**There was one question I wanted to answer, and I'd recommend you all read it so there are no illusions as to how I'm writing this story.**

"**Why is it sticking so close to canon at the moment?**

**A fair question. I do understand that none of you are here to read a rehashing of the game. But here's how I see it: Harry is greatly dependent on Cerberus at the moment. His ship, most of the crew, resources, information - everything comes from Cerberus. So I can't upset the status quo too soon. ****The story will become progressively more AU as it develops, this I promise you.**** In fact, you'll see it beginning to diverge from canon from this very chapter. So please, be patient, and if you have any ideas for ways in which the story can diverge from canon, please let me know and I'll see about integrating it into the story.**

**But enough of that now. On with the story! As always, a huge thank you to Philosophize for helping me with the story.**

**Announcement: ****Yes, I still need a beta. If you think you're up for it, please PM me.**

* * *

It was a given when you were a part of the mercenary profession that you would see highly disturbing things. The mercenaries recruiting for the drive against Archangel were no different, for one did not become a recruiter without being a veteran in the profession. They had seen slaughter and pillage, fights so bloody the air itself had been saturated with the metallic smell of blood. And that was just before breakfast.

But even they appeared to be gobsmacked by the sight that was playing out in the recruitment room. Harry couldn't blame them. Even he was not quite sure that he was seeing what he was seeing. Next to him, even Miranda was unable to maintain her usual stoicism, her face instead a mixture of amusement and mild shock.

It had all started when a considerably drunk Jacob Taylor had spotted a boy walking into the recruiting station after them - a boy who looked far too naive and excited to know what he was truly getting himself into. Immediately he had staggered away from the recruiter, leaving Harry and Miranda to watch with growing disbelief as he first broke the kid's pistol, before launching into an emotional account of how the boy was throwing his life away, when he could be making something of himself.

Harry cleared his throat nervously before turning to Miranda, "Just so we're clear, will I be blamed for making him turn to alcoholism? Or will I also be blamed for the vid that merc is recording on his omnitool? I'm pretty sure it'll go viral."

Miranda rolled her eyes with exasperation before taking Jacob firmly by the hand and leading him out of the recruitment room, leaving a stunned audience looking at their exit. Only Harry noticed as Miranda covertly sabotaged the omnitool that was recording what was happening on her way out.

"That guy was crazy!" yelled the excitable kid whom Jacob had been trying to turn away from certain death. Harry felt a strange twinge of annoyance and cast a mild compulsion charm on the boy. He couldn't have Jacob's embarrassing episode be for nothing.

_She could have at least made a copy of the vid before frying the omnitool_ he thought dejectedly as the kid suddenly walked away, talking in loud tones about how he was suddenly starving, and needed to eat immediately.

"Uh," voiced the batarian recruiter intelligently before shaking his head slightly, "Right. There's a merc with a shuttle outside, don't hang about too long."

Harry nodded easily before making for the exit himself.

"But uhh...if your buddy needs a few minutes to walk it off," the recruiter continued, scratching inside his helmet uncomfortably, "Take your time. Blue Suns are used to the drunken part, not the hugging part."

Harry suppressed a snicker before nodding once more and leaving the room. If it turned out that these people could be trusted with his secret, this would make one hell of a pensieve memory. He made sure to tuck it away carefully within his mindscape.

"I hate you," growled Jacob a few minutes later, wincing slightly at the noise the shuttle made as it flew away once more. The mercenary who had transported them here had barely waited long enough for them to disembark before taking to the air once more.

_Maybe he's scared of being in a war zone for more than ten seconds_ snarked the voice in Harry's head. As always, he pushed it aside. He had conjured some colored water on his way out, and had handed it to Jacob, claiming one of the bartenders had suggested it as a remedy. After Jacob had finished the water, he had carefully used his magic to accelerate the rate at which alcohol left his body. A useful little piece of magic, especially when both Miranda and Jacob seemed to accept that it was the cure at work. Apparently hangovers had never played too much of a part in their lives.

"As you will Taylor," he retorted with some amusement before turning his mind to the task at hand. The mirth in his eyes receded quickly, to be replaced by a very serious look.

"EDI, what do you have for us?"

_The only way to access Archangel seems to be the one used by the mercenaries._

"Smart, their strength by numbers is significantly lessened this way," remarked Miranda as she surveyed their surroundings. No one seemed to pay them any mind, except to cast a few derogatory glances in their direction. Apparently freelancers were not held highly even in mercenary circles.

"True, but these mercs are persistent if nothing else. Attrition ends up winning sooner or later," Harry replied as he casually looked around for weaknesses he could exploit. With Miranda's skill at hacking, he had no doubt that he could put a few traps into place. Add to that the havoc he could wreak with magic, and the enemy forces would certainly be weakened by the time they passed through the base.

_Marauders Inc., the galactic edition_ he thought to himself amusedly. The original Marauders wouldn't come up with chaos quite as deadly. Well, at least not all the time. Snape never had gotten over nearly becoming werewolf food, not until the very end. And Sirius could never bring himself to fully regret it, not until his very end.

_...Don't go down that road. Everyone you knew back then are now in the afterlife_ he rebuked himself before maudlin could take him over. It had become too painful to forge bond after bond with the realization that he would outlive them all. They were now nearing the headquarters of the Eclipse group, if their uniforms were anything to go by.

"Miranda, keep an eye out for anything electronic we can salvage. Credits, information, anything we can make use of," he instructed her. Miranda nodded slightly. While John had been fairly proficient at the task, Miranda was almost a natural at it, and he had no qualms about leaving it to her.

"Jacob, you need to look out for their armaments. Stockpiles. Anything we can sabotage or use to slow them down."

None of the Eclipse mercs even bothered to look up from their little brainstorming session, something which surprised him greatly.

_Archangel must really have them on the edge. I'm liking him more and more _

he thought to himself. Miranda moved quietly through the room, gathering what she could. His own eyes were caught by a datapad that simply lay on one of the crates. Curious, he moved towards it. It was unlikely to be something superficial, mercs were not so disorganized in the center of their operations, especially when a salarian was running the group.

His eyes widened when he read the contents of the pad. A coup planned against Aria. He surreptitiously hid the datapad before Miranda or Jacob could notice what he'd done. Cerberus wouldn't get much use out of it, but he was certain he could use it to strike a deal with Aria. He didn't want to be dependent on Cerberus for any longer than he had to be. Jacob was listening intently to the plans the mercenaries were laying out, no doubt trying to formulate a counter strategy.

He jerked his head towards the exit. They couldn't afford to stay in the Eclipse room for too long.

"Eclipse uses a lotta tech. One of them mentioned a heavy mech. We should try to find it and disable it before we leave," Jacob whispered in a low voice as they left the command center.

"They'll be keeping it close to them," muttered Miranda, "This alliance is one of necessity, not trust."

"Here!" called Jacob, gesturing to a nearby room.

Harry whistled as he beheld the mech in front of him. Heavy mechs really were quite a sight to take in, especially when they weren't trying to blow you apart. The room appeared to be a secure stockpile of sorts, and already Jacob had begun collecting what he could find, while Miranda headed straight for the heavy mech.

"Don't take any chances. If the friend or foe system proves hard to get into, we'll just take it apart," he spoke softly, not wanting to draw any attention to them.

"I believe I can handle encryption as simple as this one," Miranda replied coolly, making him grimace. He had walked right into that one.

"Done," Miranda announced after a few seconds, "If they activate the mech, it'll target them instead of us."

_Heh heh. And with a little magic to bolster its defense, they're in for a nasty surprise_ he cackled internally. Magic flowed through his will to cloak the mech in an invisible shield. He had realized early on how stupid it was for spells to be visible all the time. It made stealth almost impossible, and gave much away in a duel. Only in direct confrontations would it not matter, for the combatants would be too busy trying to stay alive. A select few like Voldemort and Dumbledore had simply been too powerful to bother with stealth.

Now the sounds of gunfire was beginning to reach them, and they were near the front lines, so to speak, when a soldier was expertly sniped through the head, even behind the barricade. Jacob gave a low whistle, a look of admiration on his face.

"Great sniping AND he kills mercs. This is the sort of guy we need on the team Shepard," he commented cheerfully. Harry rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but agree about the sniping. There weren't many people who could use sniping to their advantage for so long. A name arose from John's memories, but he shrugged it off. Who knew where that old comrade was right now?

* * *

Garrus groaned as his muscles protested at the exertion they were being put through, even as he shot another mercenary before he could even approach the barricade. The mercenary force was wearing him down through sheer numbers. He had lost count of how many of them he'd kill over the last few years.

_What was that human phrase Shepard used? Like fish in a barrel_ he chuckled internally as he ejected the thermal clip and inserted a new one into his sniper rifle. Then he relaxed, reaching for a bottle of water, even as he kept one keen eye trained on the narrow pathway that separated him from the mercenaries. That bridge was the only reason he was still alive, but his luck couldn't hold out for much longer.

_Survived Ilos, just to be killed by one of these morons. Hope you're laughing Saren_ he thought bitterly as he rested his rifle against the wall. Apparently they were getting ready for yet another wave. He knew the elites hadn't even stepped out yet. The soldiers he had been facing were far too ill-equipped to be serious contenders.

_Looks like I'll be joining you sooner than expected, John. You probably made this happen, didn't you, you bastard?_

A flash of movement caught his eye, and immediately a shot rang out, crippling the vorcha that had come into his line of sight. He saw a few more figures walk past the vorcha's corpse. Humans, from the look of them. At the rear was dark skinned human, military training from the way he walked. The brunette woman in the middle looked like she was two seconds away from unleashing cryogenic hell. The man in the lea-

The sniper rifle fell from Garrus' tired hands as his eyes widened in shock. After a few seconds, he broke out of his daze, reaching for the water bottle once more. Of course Shepard had come back from the dead. Why was he even surprised?

Oh how he wished the bottle he was holding had alcohol instead of water.

_Welcome to the party, John._

* * *

"Take a nap, Cathka," yawned Harry as he slammed the electronic device into Cathka's back, the idea having been suggested by Miranda. They had reported to the batarian, only to find him putting the finishing touches to a gunship that would most certainly give them trouble if it was fully functional. The device reminded him fondly of a taser, though it was far more potent.

_Ah electricity. One of my favorite elements to use_ he reminisced fondly as Miranda hacked into a nearby computer.

"I'm trying to see if I can sabotage the gunship's systems, but the firewalls are being a pain in the arse," she muttered as her delicate fingers moved rapidly over the holopad. Jacob kept watch for Cathka's minions, gun trained in case someone spotted their subterfuge.

They were interrupted by a sudden roar of noise, and Harry turned swiftly to find the next wave of mercenaries standing behind the barricade, clearly ready for the next assault. Immediately he pulled Miranda away from the computer and moved swiftly in their direction. This was their best chance at reaching Archangel while blending in. It would also give them the best chance to not get hit by the very sniper they had come to recruit.

"Idiots. Shouting like that is just gonna draw Archangel's attention," muttered Jacob as they positioned themselves in the middle of the wave.

"They aren't exactly here for their mental acuity Jacob. Besides, I doubt any of the mercs care about whether the freelancers survive or not. One less paycheck for them to hand out," chuckled Harry as he checked his gun.

Silence.

That was all there was for the first few moments - nervous silence. Harry had to restrain himself from casting a bone breaking hex at a particularly hefty batarian who stepped on his foot. Then a sniper shot rang out, and a human female at the front of the wave fell to the ground, screaming as blood sprayed from a battered leg. Harry winced at the sight, but immediately burst into motion, weaving through the charging mercenaries as he tried to avoid getting into the Archangel's crosshairs.

Around him, mercenaries were falling faster than flies as the sniper rifle rang out with deadly efficiency and speed. A few feet away, Miranda was grimacing as she ducked and wove. Her shoulder looked unharmed, surprising him. Every other shot had struck flesh, shattering shields if any were active.

He was given little time to think, as a bullet hit the ground not five inches away from his foot. He swore internally and made the last jump to safety, followed closely by Miranda and Jacob. Only half a dozen soldiers had made it through the bridge, and they appeared to be in similar states of tiredness. Without pausing, Harry immediately fired five rounds into the mercenary closest to him, throwing him against a wall with the force of the bullets.

Even Miranda looked shocked by what he had done. Clearly John Shepard had not been known for his ruthlessness. But he was not John.

His squad recovered soon, taking down three other mercenaries with ease. Two had already gone up the stairs, no doubt intending to take down Archangel. Harry headed straight for the medigel and used it immediately, deciding it was better to be safe than sorry. Jacob and Miranda had gone ahead, even as the medigel worked its purpose.

The final two mercenaries seemed to be so intent on opening the locked door that they had given no thought to the gunfire that had resounded, presumably chalking it up to a battle on the bridge, instead of near them. They were never given the chance to rectify their error, as a barrage of bullets from Jacob and Miranda ended them immediately.

Harry sighed. He had never, and would never hesitate to kill in battle. He knew all too well what the alternative was. But now that he had a moment, he could sense the heavy presence of death as it drew the souls of the departed to itself. It was not happy, no. No discernible emotion could be attributed to death. But the very presence it created sent dark pulses through his mind, wheedling him into a war-like mentality.

Decades of being around Death allowed Harry to push those feelings to a side, but even he could not stop himself from being affected completely. Death was just too vast a presence to brush away. Even as he struggled, the door before them unlocked and drew open with a soft hiss. Apparently Archangel had realized they were not a threat. Good. That would make things easier.

He walked forward cautiously, gun at the ready. Letting his guard down would be foolish just because a door was opened for them. There could very well be a shotgun trained on them on the other side.

Harry's eyes widened, and he staggered back a few steps when he saw the sight that awaited him on the other side of the door. It was a turian John, and through John he, had grown to consider a brother in all but blood. His very first crewmate outside of the alliance, and a person who had stood by him through fire and blood.

"Garrus!"

* * *

Three humans and a turian watched with bemused amusement as a heavy mech rampaged on the bridge, cutting down the mercenaries that tried to stop it with incredible ease. Harry was wondering if he had overdone the protection on the mech, for it had only now begun to take damage, and Eclipse forces were almost depleted.

"You know how to put on a show, Shepard. I'll give you that much," Garrus commented idly as he peered through his sniper scope, making sure no merc got past the YMIR.

"Yeah, well, it was this or a stripper. And it would take entire dreadnoughts full of gold to convince a stripper to look at your ugly mug," Harry replied cheekily. John and Garrus needled each other all the time - A fact he was already taking full advantage of. He missed the barbed banter that he had become known for in his previous...circles.

"Oh, the human found a sense of humor when he was dead. Strange. I didn't think the afterlife was a comedy show," Garrus shot back, the fatigue in his voice fading a little as he bantered with an old friend. Harry could understand the feeling. Things probably seemed a little less dire than they did a few minutes ago, even if it _was_ just four people against three mercenary groups.

"I think that was Jaroth who just got blown up with a missile," Garrus commented dryly as he continued to peer through the scope at the bridge, "Would've liked to snap the bastard's neck myself, but you take what you get."

"I had time to write in a protocol to self destruct it if it reverts to its original programming," Miranda spoke quietly, her eyes gleaming with a deadly look. She had the tactical ability to think two steps ahead, it was impressive. Why on Earth would someone this smart blindly follow Cerberus?

Harry looked at Garrus with a mixture of amusement and worry. Garrus had changed, if John's memories were anything to go by. While he had always come off as harsh to the casual observer, Garrus had now grown more detached, more clinical of what he saw before him. Just what had happened in the last two years?

_You can ask him that after you get rid of the people trying to blow your team up_ he chided himself. The bridge appeared clear for the moment, clearly Eclipse had either exhausted their present numbers, or they had decided to withdraw after Jaroth's brutal death.

"They're too quiet," commented Miranda, clearly having picked up on the same thing, "Vakarian, you're sure they don't have any other access points they can use?"

"I didn't exactly have the time to the guided tour of this building, _Cerberus_," Garrus responded dryly, though the inflection all but shouted out what his opinion of Cerberus was, "This bridge is the only main access point. But there could be vents or other exploits they could use...if these idiots had enough brain cells to piece together."

A sudden explosion rocked the base they were in, making Harry stumble heavily before he caught himself. Whatever had rocked the base had to be powerful, if the reverberations were felt so far away.

"Shit!" swore Garrus, "They didn't use their brains, they used explosives!"

"I did hear one of the leaders mention bombs, but they didn't discuss what it was for," cut in Jacob, on high alert as he collected a few spare thermal clips. Next to him was an M-15 Vindicator rifle that looked absolutely tempting. But it was better off with Garrus or Jacob. The feeling of death picked up again and his pulse quickened. His magic churned wildly within him, showing an almost sentient irritation at being reined in so much of the time.

"It has to be the tunnels I sealed up. I never guessed they'd get high grade explosives here so quickly," snarled Garrus as he checked something on his omnitool, "It's underground, and someone has to go there and seal them up before the mercs start pouring out of both sides."

"Roger that," Jacob spoke, already preparing to move to the staircase. Miranda was not far behind. But that wasn't what he wanted.

"No," he spoke up, drawing surprised looks from his squad as they stopped dead in their tracks.

"Commander...we need to shut down the other paths before we get some serious heat headed our way," Jacob spoke up hesitantly.

"I know," agreed Harry, "But that could be a distraction intended to draw us away before the main troops come out through the bridge."

"That IS a possibility," agreed Miranda hesitantly, looking thoroughly displeased with the situation.

"Quite. So here's the plan. You two stick around with this bird and make sure he doesn't get himself killed by a mech or something."

"Screw you John," Garrus threw back immediately, as if he had been anticipating it.

"While I go deal with our little intruders," he continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. As expected, the plan drew loud protests from both Jacob and Miranda immediately, their voices raising to levels he had never heard from them before.

"That is absolutely reckless Shepard!" glared Miranda, her grip over her pistol tightening. If his Occlumency hadn't been so preoccupied with holding back the evocations Death was causing within him, he was sure he would be sense magnitudes of anger emanating from her.

"You're going to get yourself killed Commander," pitched in Jacob persuasively, "At least take one of us with you. The other can stay to cover Vakarian."

_But if I do that, I won't be able to let loose with my magic. And I __**really**__ need to get it out of my system before it gets out of control_ Harry thought to himself before repeating himself, this time more harshly.

"You two stay here."

The sheer authority in his eyes held their protests at bay this time. They still looked far from pleased with what he was saying, and he couldn't have them breaking orders and following him. Discovering his secret so soon could a strategic catastrophe.

"Look," he explained in a softer tone, "You're forgetting that I don't have to make a stand down there. Get to the tunnels with stealth and seal them up. It won't be a straight up battle, and I have a better chance of operating unnoticed if I go alone. Besides I can handle a few stray mechs, right Garrus?"

"If that bar fight on the Citadel was anything to go by, then sure," Garrus responded casually, "Just don't go for an encore John. You already died once, I don't think they'd want you back so quickly."

Harry rolled his eyes before turning back to his squad, "You're probably going to be facing the more brutal assault. So guns at the ready and stay focused, understood?"

Jacob and Miranda still looked uneasy, though less so, but they replied, "Yes, Commander."

"Good," he nodded, pleased that they were placing some sort of trust in him. He walked down the stairs, whistling an upbeat tone as he disappeared from the sight of his squadmates.

"That's it. He's finally gone over the edge," muttered Jacob as he watched Shepard, "Not that he was too far away from it to begin with."

"Oh I wouldn't write John off so easily," Garrus drawled lazily, having not even made a move to watch Shepard depart, "He always has a plan."

* * *

_Step one: Find the mercenaries._

"Find Archangel, BITE his heart out," snarled a voice that he distinctly recognized as vorcha. Excellent. That meant the Blood Pack had sent at least some of its soldiers to clear out the tunnels, lowering the numbers that would be on the bridge. Krogans and vorcha were vicious and tough, and the group upstairs would probably have trouble beyond a certain point.

But him on the other hand…

_Step two: Call upon magic._

Harry willed it, and his magic obeyed, torrential waves of it crashing out from his core and flowing all over his body. Oh, he had missed this. The feeling of being one with magic; to feel it run through every pore of his being. He shivered at the feeling of completeness running through him. Suppressing his magic for long periods like he was doing was unnatural. No wizard would do it willingly once they had gotten in touch with their magic, and some even went insane if their magic was suppressed by force.

_Step three was always my favorite. Unleash hell upon the enemy._

With a vicious smile on his face, Harry stepped away from the cover he had been standing behind, walking towards the enemy at a sedate pace. They hadn't noticed him yet. He would ease them in. They couldn't be dying too quickly on him after all.

"**Confringo!"** he sang and an enormous explosion rocked the bay the mercenaries were in, setting off a further chain of explosions as some of the crates stored within the room detonated. Screams of agony was heard within the large room as Harry stood near the entrance, an eyebrow raised as he studied the chaos inside.

"Well. So much for that being a warning shot," he muttered as he stepped in. The flames had died away, leaving scorch marks, shattered debris and a distinct smell of burnt flesh lingering in the room. He had poured too much magic into his spell.

He was cut off from his music as he heard a war-like roar, something he instantly identified as a krogan war cry. A krogan was charging towards him from the left, the injuries littering his body doing little to stop the vicious charge he was in the middle of, clearly intent on pulverizing Harry.

"Come on then!" shouted Harry excitedly, funneling magic to his fists. Just as the krogan was about to make contact, he threw an uppercut, and with a shockwave of magic, the krogan crashed into the ceiling before falling down, limp as a dead fish.

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?" roared a voice, and Harry turned to face more Blood Pack soldiers streaming towards him. Ferocious looking varren sprinted ahead of the krogan and vorcha, showing a surprising intelligence as they zig zagged through the terrain that separated them in an attempt to avoid gunfire from him.

_That's it. It's been awhile since I had a pet. I want a varren_ he decided internally before swiftly ducking near the controls of the shutter, just in time to avoid a veritable hail of bullets that resounded throughout the room, with the edges of the wall looking considerably torn away.

"Well, aren't they enthusiastic," he muttered to himself before throwing up a vibrant silver shield around himself. He slammed his fist on the controls to close the shutter, realizing that they'd read the mercenaries strategy wrong. There weren't just a few forward scouts here. It looked as if the entire Blood Pack had taken to the tunnels, which meant his team was probably facing the Blue Suns, arguably the strongest of the three groups. He no longer had the time to dally around.

"**Push,"** he growled, and a blistering wave of force knocked the varren away, just seconds before they could have come close enough to attack him. The beasts howled as they crashed into a few of the mercenaries behind them, knocking them out of the game.

He flinched as an inferno grenade landed next to him and exploded, his magic shield stopping the damage but not the force that nearly dislocated his shoulder. He drew a hissed breath of annoyance. He had almost forgotten how fickle magic could be when wielded purely through intent.

A second wave of gunfire began as the mercenaries fired from their covered positions, every shot slamming into his shield without even the slightest dent in its forms. If anything the shield glowed even brighter with every hit it took.

"Weak," snarled Harry as he snapped his finger again, and rivers of flame rushed over one part of the passageway the mercenaries were using, utterly incinerating the mercenaries who had been taking cover there. Any stronger spells and the foundations would probably erode away. He couldn't have that happening.

"What the fuck is he?!" cried out a krogan before firing a powered biotic field at him. Harry snarled as the biotic attack passed through his shield as if it was never there, tearing through his armor. His eyes widened as warm liquid trickled down his arm, giving him a feeling he hadn't experienced in centuries.

Pain.

"The meatbag got hit by the biotics! Hit that varren with everything we got!" roared the krogan, and immediately seven more biotic attacks homed in on him, the air humming slightly with energy at their proximity. Harry didn't even move to look up at the attack, staying in the exact frozen position he had taken when he had felt his own blood trickle down his arm.

Mere seconds away from being bludgeoned by the biotic attacks, a flurry of red beams shot out of the space near Harry, cutting through the biotic attacks and dispersing them like they were never there. The red beams went on to strike the ceiling above the mercenaries, causing the entire structure to crash down in a groaning heap of metal and stone. The entire mercenary force was buried underneath the rubble, just as the shutter closed, hiding the carnage from his sight.

A red haze of energy surrounded Harry as he walked away furiously, thinking about what had just transpired. He had gotten overconfident and lax, secure in the knowledge that nothing could harm him so long as he wielded magic. It was so eerily reminiscent of Voldemort that he wanted to hit himself. The very arrogance that he had tactically exploited once was now what he himself exhibited.

The shutters on the left side of the room he had come through was a much narrower passage, and he narrowed his eyes as he saw the mercenaries hiding behind secure positions. The telltale energy of biotics grew by the second, which meant the mercenaries had heard what had happened through their comms. He had no intention of letting them launch their attacks once more.

**雷の槍 ****(Kaminari no Yari)** he intoned and a spear of lightning arced through the corridor in an instant, jumping from one mercenary to the next faster than the eye could see. It was a brutal spell, causing some mercenaries to explode from the overload of energy that had been sent through their bodies. He grimaced slightly. He had forgotten how messy the spell could be. He had used it often enough after he learned forms of magic other than Latin ones. It had been an obvious weakness, especially when Voldemort could cast in a variety of languages.

Not a single mercenary was left standing as he jumped through the various barricade-like structures that were littered throughout the corridor and activated the shutter controls.

_Yeah. Another twenty or so here. I hope the others can fend off the Blue Suns, I'm gonna be busy for a while_ he thought worriedly as he returned to the main hall. Rather predictably, it appeared as if the main strength of the Blood Pack would appear through the central shutter, the only one still left open. They had not yet reached the entrance, perhaps because they were relying on the two-pronged attack to secure the basement first.

_This could be fun_ he grinned internally before disillusioning himself. With the familiar sensation of an egg being broken over his head, his form distorted as it slowly ebbed away and disappeared, melding in with the surroundings completely. It would not fool the varren, no, but John's memories indicated that varren usually accompanied the forward scouts, and not the main force. He certainly hoped that was the case.

"Where the hell are those scouts?" A deep, authoritative voices resounded through the tunnel a few minutes later, signaling the arrival of the leader of the Blood Pack.

"We lost contact a few minutes ago. Heard lot of explosions before the comms were cut off," snarled another voice. Harry sighed. He really needed to find a way to cut comms off. It had never been an issue in his past battles.

"That Archangel is a dead varren," growled the first voice in response, "I'll enjoy ripping his chest apart."

"You almost had him last time," snivelled a third voice, which was quickly followed by a dull thud and a yelp of pain.

"NEVER mentioned that again," growled the leader.

"Well uh...we might not get the chance. Blue Suns are using that dratted gunship, they'll probably get to Archangel before we can," the second voice mumbled hesitantly, as if fearing another blow.

"Then stop yapping and get a move on before I tear your spine out!" snarled the leader, and now the voice was much closer. Harry could hear the steps of at least a dozen mercenaries, and he knew they were probably all elites.

_Dammit, I don't have the time to play around. I thought we took that gunship out of commission. There's no way those guys can handle all those Blue Sun mercs and deal with that gunship too._

As if validating his thoughts, an explosion suddenly rocked the area upstairs, making him glance up worriedly. He would have to finish this, and fast.

_This is a good time to try __**that**__ idea then _he resolved quickly before darting to the shutter controls and activating them.

"Hey! Someone's in there. Get in there before he closes the shutter," ordered the leader, and the sound of footsteps now quickened. Harry ignored the sounds and instead held his hands forward, one above and one below with the palms facing each other. And then he concentrated, willing the magic to condense many times over as it flowed through his hands. He had never done this before, and if he wasn't careful, could wipe out his body along with all the mercs.

It shone into existence slowly, a miniature river of chaotic green energy as it for a dense core, twisting within itself continuously. He grimaced as the pull began, even stronger than he had expected it to be. But he continued feeding it, knowing it had to stabilize enough for him to send it away and escape. Now the core began to grow slowly as his magic drained at an alarming pace, getting more and more visible as it finally attained the size of an apple.

_Oh I really hope this doesn't get me_ he thought nervously as the mercenaries came into sight, yelling in rage and alarm as they saw what appeared to be a green orb of light hanging in mid-air, with no one in sight. The power was tangible now, and Harry felt like his very skin would be ripped off his hands in a matter of seconds.

And then he pushed the orb away.

The orb tore through the floor and walls as it blasted away from his hands at an alarming pace, disintegrating and drawing to itself anything in its path. Already it had grown to the size of a bowling ball as the debris that was torn loose stuck to it, unable to resist the attractive force it was spreading.

Harry turned and ran, ignoring the alarmed, and soon painful screams of the mercenaries and the orb drew them all to itself, impaling them on debris or holding them to itself as it buried them in more and more debris. He winced as a resounding crack echoed through the stairway, wondering what the latest casualty was. He didn't have much time to think on it, however, for the sound of gunfire upstairs was tremendous, indicating that a heavy battle was underway. The sounds made by the bursts of fire from the gunship were distinctive, and he swore.

He could only hope he wasn't too late.

* * *

Garrus snarled as his vision blurred slightly. Taking his eyes off the scope, he hit himself hard on the head, drawing curious glances from Miranda and Jacob. But the strike brought pain, and the pain brought clarity. Capitalizing on the moment, he swiveled his gun sharply to the left and fired, hitting one of the mercenaries just as they crashed through the window. But the clarity would not last for long. He had gone too long without rest and nourishment. John's sudden appearance had given him a boost, but even that was fading now.

"Hostiles coming in from from multiple entries," shouted Jacob as he focused on the hall that led to the stairs, firing at a steady pace. Garrus had to give it to him, the man had skill to cause so much damage with a pistol. Of course, the biotics helped.

The woman, on the other hand, provided a steady stream of fire for the soldiers landing through the side, allowing him to deal more deadly shots without worrying too much about return fire.

_Well, John might have sold our souls to a shady organization, but at least he picked a talented one_ he grinned tiredly to himself before aiming and firing once more before ejecting the thermal clip. It was the complaint every sniper had. They just couldn't fire too many shots without reloading.

_I'll never say this out loud, but we could sure use Wrex here right about now _he grimaced to himself as he locked in a new thermal clip. They were almost out of clips now, and couldn't hold out at their current pace for much longer. A small reprieve would at least give them the chance to salvage some more thermal clips.

"Why are the Blue Suns already out?" shouted Miranda over the sound of gunfire, "Didn't you say the Blood Pack would be next?"

"That's what I heard them discuss!" Jacob shouted back, ducking under cover as a portion of the wall near him was torn off by the hail of gunfire that was being directed his way, "And even these guys don't change strategy just like that!"

A feeling of anxiety suddenly washed over Garrus as he realized what was happening.

"Did they mention _where_ the Blood Pack would be deploying?" he shouted out as he sniped yet another mercenary through the forehead. In numbers they reminded him of a swarm of insects, always another to take the place of the one that had fallen. The implication was not lost on the Cerberus duo, who realized what was happening.

"Dammit! We can't lose the Commander to a bunch of jumped up krogans!" shouted Miranda, and looked like she was seconds away from disobeying her orders and going after Shepard. But he didn't have time to convince the operative otherwise, busy as he was with keeping his side of the mercs at bay. He, too, was concerned, but if there was one thing he had learned, it was never to rule John out of the game.

"I'm touched, Lawson. I thought you could barely stand to have me around," chimed in a new voice, and Garrus swerved around with his gun at the ready, only to find John leaning against the couch, looking for all the world like he was enjoying a small rest. Miranda looked equally shocked, but looked away without responding, though Garrus could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile on her face.

_How the hell did he even get there without us seeing him? _

"You defeated the whole Blood Pack?" Jacob shouted out disbelievingly, almost dropping his pistol at seeing the Commander looking almost entirely unharmed. Garrus snorted when he realized that the only injury John had was a bruised arm, where the blood had already clotted and dried.

"When we're done here, we're going straight to Afterlife," announced John as he picked up his gun once more, "There are a few more colorful liquids I _really_ want to try."

* * *

Harry had been utterly confused when he had reached his team, only for no one to acknowledge him, even with a glance, as they continued battling the Blue Suns troops. Heck, at one point, it appeared as if they were even talking about him as if he wasn't standing right there!

_Cold. And to think I worried about them_ he groused and dropped down near the couch, leaning against it to catch his breath. It was only then that he realized why no one seemed to realize he was there.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I'm still disillusioned. Oh boy. How do I handle this one?_

Dramatically, he decided, and waited for the perfect chance to announce his presence. If he acted confident, they would be distracted enough to let the incident slip by, or so he hoped. He really couldn't think of a better way to handle it, apart from going back down and fighting his way up again.

Now the battle was on in full intensity, and Harry found himself being able to focus better, without feeling the difficulty containing his magic that he'd had until a few hours ago. His little exercise in the basement did help after all, he realized as he sent a well controlled wave of magic at some mercenaries, perfectly disguised as a biotic push, at least to the naked eye.

_Heh. Naked._ he sniggered to himself childishly as he emptied a clip at two mercenaries who were trying to advance their position before ducking down to reload. This was quickly becoming tedious, and he wished with all his heart that he could use one of his more esoteric spells to put an end to the mercenaries. Painfully.

"You look like you're tired, John. Time for some warm milk and a na-" Garrus had begun to chuckle harshly, only to be cut off by the powerful engine of the gunship as it emerged once again, guns trained directly at their location.

Time moved slowly for Harry, who found himself watching with wide eyes as the guns began to fire, catching Miranda with a shot to the right arm that made her fall to the ground in pain, gritting her teeth as she reached for the medigel. Jacob had dived out of range of the gunfire, which effectively cut him off from the rest of the squad.

But Harry's eyes stayed on Garrus with horror as he saw a hail of bullets strike the turian, tearing off skin and flesh as he was thrown off his feet by the force of the attack, before falling heavily on the ground.

"Garrus!" Harry called harshly, trying to snap the turian out of it. But he knew it was futile. Already the blood was pooling around Garrus, and Harry felt himself being filled with a fury that was both John's and his. He stood and faced the gunship, snarling as the bullets clashed against his shield without causing any harm at all. He didn't care who saw him use magic. Not any more.

**DIE!** he thundered before thrusting his hands out. Magic flowed through him in a flurry, and without even conscious direction, it tore the gunship into a million pieces, causing an even bigger explosion as the ship's core exploded. Fire and metal tore through the air to where the four of them lay and he gestured with his hands once more, making the silver shield that protected him spread out into a wall that repelled the debris, making it crash to the ground uselessly. A furious halo surrounded Harry, who was wrestling with the fact that he couldn't do anything to help his friend other than casting a blood clotting charm on him. Not without completely blowing his cover.

"Shepard?" called Jacob from where he was taking cover, "What the hell just happened?"

* * *

**Not entirely pleased with this chapter. Like I said, I lost the train of thought I was following for earlier chapters. BUT it's not too bad, so I'm sure you still enjoyed it some.**

**This chapter's question: ****How soon do you think I can diverge from cannon **_**significantly? **_**As always, drop me a review letting me know what you think and why.**

**Oh, before I forget, I recently became a part of this community called the Dreamers, which has some pretty cool authors and betas in it. Check it out if you feel like it, there are some great stories in there!**

**Until next time!**

**ShoredKafka.**


	6. Chapter 5 - Two Vicious Powerhouses

**Author's Note:**

**I've been trying to figure out what to do with the pairings, since I've been receiving opinions across the board. I've decided against a "proper harem", which I'm given to understand involves anywhere between three and a million partners. But I feel like one pairing would result in too much lost potential. To that end, I've TENTATIVELY thought about have two romantic partners. That way, I'll have plenty of room to develop each romantic partner properly, and create an interesting relationship dynamic. What do you guys think?**

**I'm not even sure this needs to be said at this stage in the story, but you'll always find that one person who feels the need to say "But Zaeed doesn't act like that in the game!" Well, this isn't the game. Enough said.**

**Disclaimer:** **HP and ME don't belong to me blah blah blah. I own the specific plot nuances that make this story uniquely mine, nothing else. Anonymous reviews will be deleted without prejudice. I apologize to those genuinely interested people who review anonymously, but sadly, you guys are in the minority.**

**Announcement:** **SleeperAwakens has agreed to join me as a beta recently, so cheers for that. In tangent with the ever thoughtful Philosophize, this story now has an excellent team working on it. Sort of like the X-Men, with less spandex and saving the world from colossal powers. **

* * *

_**Previously:**_

_Fire and metal tore through the air to where the four of them lay and he gestured with his hands once more, making the silver shield that protected him spread out into a wall that repelled the debris, making it crash to the ground uselessly._

"_Shepard?" called Jacob from where he was taking cover, "What the hell just happened?"_

* * *

Harry snarled under his breath and turned towards Jacob, intent on determining how much Jacob had seen. To his relief, he realized that Jacob had dived into the corridor to take cover from the gunship when it had begun to fire. Thus, while he sounded uninjured, he had also seen nothing of what had transpired. He gently brushed past the man's mind just to be sure, and saw only disbelief at how quickly the gunship had been destroyed. He had been preparing for a long, drawn out battle no doubt. Good. He could work with that.

He turned swiftly to find Miranda near-unconscious on the floor. He moved quickly towards her with medigel in hand. Even from the looks of it, she didn't look to be as badly injured as Garrus. It was mostly the shock of such powerful gunfire impacting on barrier, in tangent with the blood loss that had rendered her unconscious. He applied the medigel and turned back to Garrus, knowing she would be up soon. Jacob was already at his side, tending to Miranda.

_Luck is actually on my side for once_ he reflected with amazement, realizing his cover hadn't been blown yet. John's memories did show him having a penchant for being lucky. But Harry Potter was certainly never lucky - well, most of the time. This made for a startling change from the usual.

He turned back to Garrus and scowled heavily. He didn't want his use of magic to be discovered, but nor did he want to tamper with Jacob's memories. Reading memories had, in time, become a safety precaution for him. But spells that influenced the mind he preferred to use only on his enemies. He also realized that John's strong sense of morality had passed over, to some extent, when he had integrated the aspects of John to himself. No, he couldn't tamper with a potential ally.

He knelt near Garrus, and even as he applied the medigel he had left, he discreetly channeled magic through his other hand. He could heal a small portion of Garrus' injuries - enough to give the turian a fighting chance at survival - and wait until they had gotten to the Normandy's med bay. That would suffice, or so he hoped.

"Shepard," began Jacob, and Harry stiffened, realizing he had to think of a good reason, and fast, "What the hell happ-"

A thunderous rumble interrupted them, and the floor beneath them cracked ominously. Harry staggered to one side, thrown off balance as he had been so focused on healing Garrus as inconspicuously as he could. The air around them filled with residual dust from the building's torn body.

"Oh what now?" growled Jacob as he pulled Miranda to her feet. The woman looked disoriented, but already her eyes were regaining their focus. She looked to be in pain, however, as her posture was hunched, and her normally impassive face now looked strained.

_Oh fuck. It couldn't be…_ thought Harry frantically as he reached out with his magic, searching the basement for his magical signature. It couldn't be… He couldn't have been so stupid...

_Crap. It is_ he swore as to himself as he felt his fears being confirmed. Another rumble erupted, and now part of the floor was torn down with the horrible screeching sound of twisted metal, leaving him to kick himself mentally at his omission.

He had forgotten to cancel the gravity spell he had unleashed on the Blood Pack. Instantly he reached out and severed the connection to the spell, but the damage was already done. The entire building would soon fall apart, with its foundations so weakened. Harry turned to face Jacob and Miranda, even as he lifted Garrus delicately onto his shoulder. The turian gave a weak moan of pain at being handled so roughly. Harry rolled his eyes and channeled some more magic to keep him stabilized. He had forgotten the urgency that those near death's door tended to induce - In themselves and in others.

"Run," he told them simply.

* * *

**Normandy - Outside the Med Bay**

"You keep the work interesting, Commander, that much must be said," began Karin Chakwas in a slightly weary tone as the med bay doors closed behind her.

_Well well. Another British accent_ Harry thought tiredly as he pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. It had been a long wait, even with the kind of facilities they had in the Normandy's bay. Jacob had returned to his station immediately, saying he had no pressing injuries. Miranda, on the other hand, had asked for some medigel before walking away to her own little haven. Knowing the woman, she could probably heal herself, especially considering the Lazarus project required immaculate knowledge of physiology (among other things).

"I don't think anyone has accused the Normandy of being boring yet, Doctor," he replied, smiling slightly. The stern looking woman gave him a small smile, but her expression soon turned serious.

"It's a miracle that he's still alive, but he's always been resilient, just like the rest of you. No matter what Sovereign or Saren threw at you. I wish you hadn't carried him the way you did, Commander. It no doubt caused even more damage."

"The building was about to collapse," shrugged Harry, "I'd like to think being buried under tonnes of steel could have done even more damage than I did."

"Yes. Well." Dr. Chakwas coughed slightly, "He's in stable condition now, and most of his injuries have been healed. His face will sustain some very ugly scars, I'm afraid. Rather similar to what you have actually."

Harry blinked, before realizing what she was talking about. Scars littered his face, the result of the revival and implanting process. He had chosen not to heal it at first, knowing it would cause confusion. And over time, he had entirely forgotten that they existed.

_Well, at least I definitely have practice in that area. Walked around with a bloody lightning shaped scar that everyone stared at_ he snorted to himself. Truthfully, he didn't mind them in the least. After the war, everyone had more than their fair share of scars, some that even magic couldn't heal. Well, conventional magic at any rate. The scar from the basilisk fang was an example, one he had carried since he was twelve. But he could see how someone else might react differently to looking even half as disfigured as he now did.

"Now, Commander, you seem to have been avoiding me. I need to evaluate your condition, especially in light of...recent events."

"Worried that being dead might have made me defective somehow?" he asked cheekily, strongly reminded of Madam Pomfrey in some ways. But Chakwas was rather cold and clinical, at least on the surface, whereas Pomfrey had been warm and sometimes overbearing. Then again, Chakwas treated soldiers, whereas Pomfrey had to deal with students.

_My injuries did make her work for every galleon though_ he reminisced fondly, thinking of the many nights he had spent on one of the Hospital Wing beds.

"I was hoping for a missing organ, actually. It would give me cause to conduct far more...invasive tests," shot back Chakwas with a small but terrifying smile on her face. Harry gulped slightly.

_Nope. It's definitely like Poppy got reincarnated_ he decided before shaking his head in the negative.

"Later, Doctor. I'd appreciate it if you could check up on Miranda, and then Jacob. Both of them sustained injuries, but Miranda's are worse. They went back to their cabins," Harry told her gently.

_How does one distract a Madam Pomfrey? By ratting out someone with a bigger injury_ he thought smugly, already picturing Miranda trying to fend off the doctor's scans and tests.

It worked, for Chakwas went into the med bay and then came out again, bearing a few items. Muttering something along the lines of "foolish bravado in every single bloody organization", she was soon out of sight, and would probably be occupied for a while. Nearby the mess was beginning to fill up, and the cook's voice rang out loudly as the chatter rose.

_Need some bloody peace and quiet_ he decided, and entered the med bay. He would check in on Garrus - quickly - and retire to his cabin. He had to hand one thing to Cerberus - they knew how to treat its people well. Or rather, the high ranking people at any rate. No alliance quarters had come close to how comfortable his own were now.

Garrus looked battered as he rested on a bed in the med bay, though less so, now that many of the injuries had been treated and the blood removed. He felt the ghost of a scowl find its place on his face once more. The pilot of that gunship had died much too quickly for his liking. For better or worse, Garrus was "his" friend now, a vulnerability which made him feel uneasy. The turian had earned John's complete trust and loyalty, and vice versa. But he was not so foolish as to think that the status quo would remain.

Suddenly he felt a wave of rage wash over his passive Legilimency, and his eyes widened as he realized that Garrus was awake, but pretending to be asleep. All it took was a glance at his mind to realize the reasons.

_He's figured it out. Well, I'm not sure if I was actually expecting my act to fool someone who knew John so well._

"Am I?" whispered a voice harshly, and before Garrus could make another move, he drew on his magic, weaving a web that trapped Garrus in the exact position he was in this. A paralysis charm, if he was being less than dramatic. Again he called upon his magic, casting another spell that he knew would be essential to proceed.

**Muffliato **he whispered, powering the spell so that it extended through the entire room with that signature noise that would conceal anything he would say. While technically the blanket only needed to cover him and Garrus, he could not take any chances, not when he had been given so little chance to experiment with the technology that faced him now.

"What do you mean, Garrus?" he asked calmly, sitting on a chair near Garrus. As far as anyone looking at the surveillance - such as EDI - was concerned, he was merely looking in on an old friend.

"I _mean_," began Garrus before breaking off into a painful cough, hiding well the shock he was feeling at the fact that only speech remained in his control, while the rest of his body was totally unresponsive, "That you and Cerberus pals must be complete idiots to think I'd fall for your act."

"They're not my friends you know," he informed Garrus a casual tone. It was true, after all. Cerberus was, at best, a tentative ally. An ally that controlled his resources completely, at least for the moment.

"I notice that's the only thing you're denying," Garrus spoke up dryly, his voice betraying nothing. His mind was another matter altogether, and Harry could sense loss and betrayal churning into a poisonous mix within the turian's mind.

"What happened to John?" pressed Garrus, frustration and panic now beginning to show on his face at his body's lack of response. It was the best thing for him really. His wounds wouldn't have held up well had he tried to attack Harry, or even get up for that matter.

"Before that, don't you have a more pressing question to ask me?" Harry shot back cheerfully, looking undaunted by the murderous look being sent his way.

"What did you do to me?" Garrus rasped finally, looking as if even asking the question was a sign of weakness. But he had to know.

"I paralyzed you, of course," Harry shot back conversationally, well aware that he was angering Garrus. Good. Anger was a less corrosive emotion than hatred. He cast a notice-me-not charm on the door of the med bay, realizing he would be here longer than he expected. Chakwas would likely be attending to Jacob and Miranda for a while, but he didn't want one of the crew members to walk in with a stubbed toe or a paper cut. That sort of thing would be just in keeping with his rotten luck.

"Go fuck a varren," snarled Garrus, looking as if he were straining to bring his body under control again. Harry smiled slightly at that.

"You're right, in a sense. I'm not John. Well, I'm not entirely John. I think I'm 30% John. 35% if anyone tries to haggle over it," he continued conversationally, as if he were speaking more to himself than to the immobile turian. Now Garrus' mind emanated confusion amidst the anger, though his face showed none of it.

"What did you do my friend?!" growled Garrus, looking angry, fatigued and sorrowful at the same time. Harry took pity on the turian and decided to stop fooling around. He had been using it as a distraction while he sorted out what to do next.

"I understand you're angry and upset," he continued in a detached tone, ignoring the look of shock on Garrus' face at what he had just done, "After the pain of losing a close friend, you were able to believe, just for a few minutes, that he was back. Am I right? And then that hope must have been ripped away from you."

If looks could kill, Harry would have died painfully a thousand times over. A low growl of rage emanated from the turian's throat, but he stayed silent.

_My people skills seem to be a little rusty, I'd actually stopped baiting him_ Harry mused to himself before looking Garrus straight in the eye. He had a few options at hand. He could wipe the memory from Garrus' event, or otherwise influence his memory. While good in the short term, it could prove catastrophic in the long term. He needed loyal allies working at optimum capacity, not thralls addled by influencing spells. And that was the problem with mind influencing spells. Sooner or later, the shit always hit the fan.

"I'm going to take a chance with you, Garrus," Harry decided, leaning back against the chair as he surveyed the turian with calculating eyes, "Unlike most of the other jokers on this ship, you ar- no, _were_ actually a loyal friend of John's. I think you deserve to know what happened to him."

Saying so, he concentrated, collecting the relevant memories to one specific place in his mindscape. This method was crude, and needed a decent level of Occlumency to see it through. Not to mention it was just a pain in the neck. But with no idea what the fate of pensieves had been, this was the only thing he could do. The tip of his index finger glowed a faint silver as he concentrated magic and intent at that one point.

"I'd ask you to clear your mind, but you probably wouldn't listen to me," he told Garrus, who now looked confused at his antics, "So I'm sorry to say this'll give you a headache. A hell of a headache."

With that, he pressed the index finger to Garrus' forehead, and immediately the turian's eyes rolled up as his mind was hit by the memories. Harry sat back and lifted the spell from the turian. He couldn't move until the memories had run their course even if he wanted to. It wouldn't be too long a wait, but it would likely strain the turian both mentally and emotionally. In one shot he would learn that Death was a real and present entity, that John truly was dead, and that John himself had asked Harry to continue his work.

He would need time to process what he was watching at that very instant, and Harry decided the best thing to do would be to give him that time. He stood and walked out of the med bay, whistling softly and cancelling the charms he had cast as he did so.

Some fine spirits awaited his attention in his cabin.

* * *

**The Wrecked Base - An Unspecified Time**

"Get a move on, varren meat," grunted Morkvag the batarian as he stood precariously on the dilapidated building, using his omnitool to scan the wreckage and corpses for anything valuable, "We don't wanna be here when Aria's people turn up."

"Already told you, heard from a friend in Aria's forces that they're all keeping an eye on whatever's left of the mercenary force. Persuade them not to cause trouble and all," growled his companion as he stepped gingerly through the areas of the building that hadn't collapsed, occasionally turning over a dead mercenary to take an omnitool here, a datapad there. He left the guns and armor alone, they weren't what he was here for.

"Yeah, well, hurry the fuck up anyway. I don't wanna be around when the rest of this building decides to turn to dust," the first batarian shot back, climbing ahead of his companion in his search. Scavenging wasn't the most glamorous way to live, but it put food in his belly and a roof over his head. Of course, he had to share that roof with his pig of a partner, but then, nothing in the world was perfect.

"Heh heh, been months since we came across a jackpot this big," his companion laughed gleefully, no doubt already envisioning what he would order from the bartender in Afterlife. Morkvag shook his head scornfully. He himself would be going to Afterlife too, but not for the watered down booze. No, he had his eye on this asari who'd always smile at him whenever he walked past. Maybe today was the day he'd finally be able to talk to her.

He was interrupted from his pleasant dreams by the sound of his scanner picking up something unusual on one of the omnitools he spotted lying at a distance. They were information scavengers, which meant they had been given scanners that pertained to data and technology. Bank accounts, encrypted transmissions, those were the sort of things he usually came across. And once something registered on the scans, it was impossible to er...appropriate them for himself. His boss wasn't fond of sticky fingers.

This particular flag seemed to be video footage that had been recorded on the omnitool before it had been damaged. He sighed, and prepared to move on to the next item of interest. For all he knew, it was a drunken recording or a message from a lonely mercenary to his special someone. But just as his eyes flicked away, he noticed something that piqued his interest. The recording had been recorded just minutes before the building had collapsed, meaning it could have caught the battle that had happened here.

He tried playing the footage, but it seemed as if whatever had damaged the omnitool had also corrupted the recording to some extent. Someone would need to restore it.

_Well. You never know what'll get a good price on the market. Some jackass would probably pay to see this much bloodshed_ he thought to himself and collected the omnitool from the dead mercenary. The building shook slightly, and he almost wet himself.

_Can't wait to turn this over and get paid._

"Well well well," leered Zaeed lecherously, "Whot's a pretty little thing like you doing with these arseholes?"

"Peering into the minds of deranged people like you, Mr. Massani, is what I do here," Kelly replied bitingly, though her posture indicated that she was tensed. Zaeed burst out into laughter at her reply, clapping his hands together once. The sound was odd, grating. It was totally out of place coming from the ageing mercenary.

"Oh this one's got some fire. I'm going to enjoy this," he proclaimed gleefully, drawing nervous attention from the crew members who were nearby.

Harry was in a dilemma. On one hand, he found the exchange highly amusing. On the other, the discomfort radiating from Kelly was almost tangible, and it was clear that she expected him to step in.

He supposed standing near his private terminal and watching with avid interest was too much of a giveaway for him to stay in the background. Well. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.

He reluctantly decided to put an end to Zaeed's creepy attempts at flirtation, catching Kelly's attention himself.

"Miss Chambers," he cut in, and Kelly looked enormously relieved as she turned to face him. Zaeed scoffed and walked in the direction of the briefing room, leaving one slightly sad wizard and one enormously relieved psychologist behind.

"Bet all your classes never prepared you for that specimen," he teased her, trying to break her out of her discomfort. He wasn't totally heartless, or so he liked to think.

"He's definitely...interesting," grimaced Kelly, impressing him with the fact that even now she tried to find a positive side to things. Or perhaps she was merely trying to soften the traumatic blow she had been struck recently. Who was he to deny her her attempts at comfort?

_I normally depend on alcohol, but I'm guessing that'd be tricky to justify when one is a psychologist _he sniggered internally.

"I wanted to ask you to send me the psych profiles in advance of recruiting, Miss Chambers. It'll make first contact go better. Not every recruitment will be as easy as with Garrus and Zaeed."

"Please, call me Kelly," Kelly smiled at him with real warmth, and he felt his heart melting where he stood. His mechanically held-together heart. This woman wielded kindness and compassion far better than Dumbledore ever did. Well, wielded was too inaccurate a word. He was reasonably certain that Kelly had no secret ulterior motive.

"Alright, Kelly," he replied, trying to construct a genuine smile on his face. But it had been so long. At best, what he came up with was a painful, half-hearted grimace. But the smile Kelly sent at him seemed to suggest he had just exhibited an outstanding example of a smile.

"I'll get right on it Commander!"

_Oh good. A few more minutes of sunshine and my cynical soul would have withered_.

Harry shook his head and began to walk in the direction of the debriefing room. Today was the perfect opportunity to see what Zaeed was capable of and hold a trial run with him as part of a squad. They also had to talk about how the previous mission had gone, as they had been too nonplussed by the end of the last one

"Commander," came Jacob's calm and steady tone as he stepped into the debriefing room. He was clearly back in control, though the drunk Jacob had been rather more hilarious.

"Nice equipment you got 'ere. Guess this Illusive Man of yours don't fool around," growled Zaeed - Was it actually a growl, or was it just how the man sounded? Harry found himself being reminded powerfully of Moody, though the insane ex-auror had found a better replacement for his non-functioning eye.

"Right, let's do this quickly," he spoke briskly, "Any update on Garrus' condition?"

"Tough sonofabitch. The doc told me he already left the med bay, more or less in one piece. Said he had some loose ends to tie up on Omega before he could join us," Jacob chipped in, his admiration for the turian's resilience clear.

"I authorized his departure from the trip. With his injuries, he would have been of no help on this mission at any rate," Miranda continued concisely, and he nodded in approval at her. Truth be told, he was rather nervous about how Garrus had taken the many revelations piled on him. Perhaps it was for the best that he took some time to think things through.

"Right. Did Kelly forward her psychological profile of this Mordin?"

"A highly celebrated salarian scientist, did a lot of work for the government. Extremely intelligent, prone to hyperactive behavior. He's highly rational, so I don't see him refusing this offer. The sooner we get him to work on those drone-like creatures, the better," Miranda offered, and he could see respect in her eyes. It was clear she admired this salarian somewhat, despite being part of a human supremacist organization.

Harry nodded in affirmation. It was time they started making progress with this biological weapon, or whatever the hell those things were. Besides, he was eager to form his own opinion about these salarians. The way they were described reminded him of a Hermione Granger on coffee. Hopefully they would be more tolerable.

"EDI, any updates on this plague issue?"

"_None, Shepard. The guards appear to be content to wait for the plague to run its course, regardless of casualties."_

Harry sighed. Nothing could ever be easy could it?

"We'll have to deal with the guards directly then. Wonderful. Well, let's get to it. For this mission I want Zaeed and Miranda on the squad. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Commander!" they chorused and Harry nodded once, dismissing them. Jacob looked rather upset at being left out, but Harry shrugged it off. He would have to get used to it, especially so when more and more people joined the team. With Zaeed playing the part of muscle, he needed Miranda for her technical capabilities.

"_I will monitor local chatter and keep you informed, Shepard."_

"Right, send us a schematic of the section we'll have to go through as well."

"_Aria T'Loak is certain to have these schematics. I will attempt to access them."_

Fight through mercenaries in an area affected by a deadly plague. How hard could it be?

* * *

_I hate my life_ groaned Harry, watching as his first interaction with Mordin Solus prompted something of an oratory performance in response.

"Humans. Curious. Don't recognize you from area. Too well armed to be refugees. No mercenary uniforms. Here for something else. The plague! Investigating possible use as bioweapon? No no, no no. Too many weapons, not enough data equipment. Soldiers, not scientists. Yes! Yes! Hired guns? Looking for something. But wha-"

"Hey hey, don't forget to breath now," Harry cut in quickly, realizing this would perhaps take ages, "Name's John Shepard. We've come to recruit you on a mission against the Collectors. The kind where millions die if we fail."

Miranda looked exasperated at how lightly he had broached the subject. She had been about mysterious silence, keeping him in the dark for as long as she could, or so she thought. He preferred the blunt approach whenever it was possible.

"Mission? No no. Too much to do here. Clinic understaffed. Plague to cure. Different species to deal with."

"Have you actually managed to find a cure for the plague?" he asked curiously. It would be a ringing endorsement of this salarian's abilities if he had. From what he knew of the Collectors, deciphering anything of theirs would be far tougher a challenge to unravel, no matter the nature of this plague.

"Of course. Modifying plague clever, made it a little challenging. Would have done it faster if not also running clinic."

"If we're done patting each other on the ruddy back, I'd like to get out there and kill some more of them Blue Suns bastards," cut in Zaeed with his already trademark brand of charm, caressing his gun almost lovingly as he did so.

"Riiiiiight," drawled Harry uncomfortably, "Well, if the plague is cured, you don't need to stay here any longer, right?"

"Correct. But cure must be administered through ventilation system. Vent controls in region under vorcha control. Annoying, but threat nonetheless. Can't leave clinic now. Too much to do."

_And there we have our opening_ Harry exulted. It was fairly obvious what Mordin wanted from them, and he considered it a bargain. But it never hurt to verbalize the deal rather than relying on subtext.

"If we take of getting the cure where it needs to go, will you join us?"

"Yes. Clinic can manage without me then. World saving mission. Very dashing stuff. Can't wait to study Collectors. Fascinating species."

And with that the salarian was gone in a burst of energy, tending to the patients and prescribing medicines and correcting diagnoses. Harry shook his head in disbelieving admiration. Miranda's taste in role models was not completely bad, it would seem. Though how the Illusive Man had earned his place in her list was something he couldn't yet fathom.

"Have left present for you! Sign of good faith. Good gun, useful to shoot vorcha!" came Mordin's voice from far away, and he blinked and searched the area around him, until his eyes finally fell on the gun in question. He whistled softly as he picked up the gun, immediately trading it for his previous one. This was much more powerful, but the capacity only supported a few shots at a time.

His kind of weapon. Well, he would trying placing an untraceable extension charm on a thermal clip later, as an experiment. If an infinite amount of heat could be taken within the clip, then the biggest flaw in this gun would be gone. He gave a vicious smile as he considered the many ways in which magic could add to the tools at his disposal.

"If you're done feelin' up that gun, can we get going? Plague ain't gonna cure itself," grunted Zaeed as he moved towards the exit. Miranda's eyes shone with amusement as she followed suit. Harry stared at his squad's retreating figures with indignation.

"Hey! YOU'RE talking to me about feeling up guns? Really? YOU?"

Harry was still sulking by the time they ran into more mercenaries, more ferocious and better equipped now that they were nearing the heart of the affected area. But that irritation soon faded when he began to use the gun he had just acquired. A well aimed shot was all it took to bring a vorcha soldier down, a portion of his head blasted clean off.

"Right! Zaeed, keep pressuring the main group. Miranda, cut off any mercs who try to flank us," he ordered and immediately they changed positions to carry out their new orders. Zaeed was especially brutal, using his expert knowledge of the Blood Pack, their strengths and weaknesses to do devastating damage. Bringing him along had been a wise choice.

Miranda had comparatively less to do this time, for the enemy didn't possess much that her skills could exploit. But she was as efficient as ever, whittling away the opposition with well aimed shots. Harry revelled in the chance to fight against such strong opponents, using disguised magic as often as he could without arousing suspicion. He found the 'cooldown' time that Adepts normally adhered to to be a pain to remember.

He threw his hand out again, drawing out the remaining three Blood Pack members with a well placed gravity orb (as he liked to refer to them). They were torn apart by gunfire as they floated in the air, desperately trying to free themselves. He sighed. It was such an ingenious tactic. He wished he had thought of it in his earlier days.

"Resistance is getting heavier," spoke up Miranda as she looked around for resources to exploit. It was something Harry had asked her to do, as she was easily the best with hacking and all it entailed. She had agreed immediately, clearly seeing the need to have their own bankroll at some level. The Normandy's coffers grew steadily.

"Heavier? They've gotten sloppy. They used to be tougher back in the day, not a bunch of quivering milksops," Zaeed spat out, and Harry could sense hatred in the man once more. He sighed. Zaeed's past was dragging the man down. Not that he himself was one to talk.

"Gee, I wonder why they're sloppy...Oh right, they've been living with a plague in their midst for days now," he shot back sarcastically, distracting the mercenary from his dark thoughts.

"_The ventilation system is some distance away Commander. There is a significant level of chatter on their communications. It is likely you will encounter further resistance soon."_

"Excellent," grinned Zaeed, "Nessie wants to kill some more mercs."

"You named this gun Nessie?" deadpanned Harry, feeling for the first time like the saner part of the conversation. It was an unpleasant feeling.

"I name all my guns. Got a problem with that?" growled Zaeed.

Harry turned away without answering. Was there anything he _could _say? Even Miranda looked vaguely disturbed, and she had a high threshold for the unusual. He wondered idly what would have happened if wizards ever started naming their wands (Oh, how he cracked himself up with his innuendos).

_Oh boy, my mind's going to a bad place now. Draco Malfoy. What Draco Malfoy would name his wand...No, stop it! Stop it! For the love of- Oh, more mercs to kill. Thank the stars!_

And so it went.

* * *

"Environmental systems engaged. Airborne viral levels dropping. Patients improving. Vorcha retreating. Well done Shepard."

In the salarian's defense, he sounded almost mellow this time, though his oddly concise way of speaking remained. Harry just nodded, too busy trying to catch his breath after the intense final battle they had gone through. Rocket launchers. They had been a pain in the 21st century and they were even more of a pain now, it would seem.

"And thank you for saving me as well," Mordin's assistant cut in, his voice breaking nervously, "If you hadn't showed up, those batarians would have killed me."

"Yeah yeah," Harry cut in impatiently, "Now shoo, go be in charge, Mordin needs you to replace him after all."

Well, perhaps he was being a little impatient. But Harry was done with this area of Omega for good. It didn't even have entertainment! Well, not the kind of entertainment he normally went for anyways.

The assistant left hesitantly, no doubt eager to write off the events of the past few hours as some sort of plague induced hallucination.

"Good boy. Bit naive. He'll learn. Should be able to handle clinic now that vorcha are gone," called Mordin as he bustled around the room, no doubt taking what he needed before he accompanied them.

"So, you're ready to join us now?" he called to Mordin.

"Yes. Unexpected to be working with Cerberus. Many surprises. Never gets boring," called Mordin happily as he continued to gather what he needed, checking his omnitool occasionally as he did so.

_You can say that again_ Harry thought amusedly. After the relative boredom of being in Death's domain for so long, this whole time had just been one long roller coaster.

"Zaeed and Miranda will accompany you to the Normandy and show you around," he said, drawing surprised looks from his squadmates.

"And what will you be doing, Commander?" Miranda asked suspiciously, her eyes gleaming with disapproval at what he had said.

"I'm gonna walk around, take in the sights, see if I can come across anything useful," Harry replied easily, and Miranda scowled. She turned away, nonetheless, realizing it was his prerogative to do as he wished.

"I don't mind going back," grunted Zaeed before smiling slightly, "Never got the chance to finish my conversation with that little lady."

"Conduct yourself in a befitting manner, Mr. Massani, or I shall castrate you," Miranda spoke bluntly, making him choke with laughter, even as a chill ran up his back. Perhaps he would have to irritate the woman a little less. Just a little less though.

Zaeed appeared undeterred, however, and merely leered at Miranda happily, as if she had just made his day.

"You're not so bad either, Cerberus lady."

Miranda rolled her eyes and gestured for Mordin to follow her before walking out of the room, shooting him a dirty look as she left. He couldn't blame her. She had to deal with an excitable salarian and a disturbing bounty hunter.

_Oh well. Good thing I don't sympathize easily these days_ he thought cheerfully before walking briskly in the direction of Afterlife. As he walked, Harry realized this was the first time he could truly soak in the functioning anarchy that was Omega. A shady area that brought together different races, professions and...Oh, what the heck. He just enjoyed the atmosphere of crime. Were it not for the very intimidating sight he presented with his armor and weapons he was fairly certain that someone would have tried to mug him at least once by now.

Afterlife appeared to be as crowded as ever, though Harry was hugely entertained by the bouncer that Aria had employed. His imposing size and deep voice made him perfect for the role, though his way of speaking left so many possibilities to the imagination. Such as how he would try to engage in intercourse with his special someone. More precisely, he was interesting in how they began their sentencing by emoting verbally how they felt.

"Horny: Wish to sleep with you I do."

Harry snickered uncontrollably to himself, wondering what it would be like if _everyone_ went around talking like that. It would have scandalized McGonagall no doubt, and that alone he would have paid his worth in gold to see.

He had only to walk past the entrance before the signature music of Afterlife enveloped him, the dark atmosphere making him relax further as he walked through the dancing, puking and sometimes unconscious people. As ever, asari worked the bar, and drunken people congregated around the poles, shouting boisterously. Harry himself ignored all that came in his path, for he had a real agenda this time.

"Shepard," greeted Aria in a cold tone, not bothering to glance up from the datapad she was reading. Her guards had let him by without a word this time, no doubt they had been instructed to. They still glared at him though, as if praying for him to make a threatening move so they could disembowel him.

"_ll have to make them vomit slugs sometime_ Harry decided then before turning to Aria and bringing out the datapad that he had acquired from the mercenary base. The pad described an attempt to take over Aria's turf in some detail, and would no doubt be valuable to her. He was counting on it.

"I found this when I went in to recruit Archangel," he said, throwing the datapad to Aria. She caught it out of the air deftly and glanced over it, before beckoning murderously to one of her minions.

She threw the datapad forcefully against the batarian when he came close enough, before growling, "Would you like to tell me how this slipped past the net?"

"Good aim," Harry complimented her gleefully. To see the batarian who had been so rude to him when he had first landed on Omega be used as target practice was worth bringing the datapad here. But he would walk away with something more tangible and useful before their conversation was done.

"Thanks Shepard, I'll have my team look into this. Seems I have some cleaning to do on Omega," Aria spoke casually, though he could tell she now held him a little higher in regard, if only because he had proved to be useful if nothing else.

"Won't be much to clean up," he informed her, "I doubt we left many of those three groups alive."

Aria didn't seem surprised, though he supposed a building crashing down would have attracted her notice. She was certainly able enough to keep all the criminal elements on a leash.

"Yes, I heard about you saving me some trouble. I suppose I should thank you for that as well."

"Not a problem," he told her peaceably, twiddling his thumbs as he took in more of the Afterlife's atmosphere. Aria seemed irritated that he felt so relaxed in her presence.

"Was there anything else you wanted Shepard? I'll have something sent to your ship for your trouble."

Harry leaned forward and looked Aria in the eye, his entire demeanor becoming focused. Aria looked unnerved by the sudden change in his mood.

"Yes, actually. I want to make an alliance with you."

The dumbstruck look on Aria's face was pensieve worthy. It was the first time the leader of Omega had looked so openly shocked in his presence. But that quickly faded, to be replaced by a calculative look.

"You already have Cerberus," she stated, "Resources, people, information. What could you possibly need from me?"

Harry nodded, it was the question he had been expecting.

"It's simple. Cerberus and I are allied only insofar as in we both want the Reapers defeated. They don't trust me, I don't trust them. And I _really _don't like being reliant on them so completely. Which is where you come into the picture."

"Well well, looks like humanity's poster boy doesn't get along with human supremacists. How interesting," Aria spoke slowly, savoring the information. Harry shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn't going to make an effort to keep that secret.

"But tell me, why the hell should I ally with you?" Aria spoke, her tone turning harsh as he surveyed him like a predator would its prey.

"A few obvious reasons. I'm a powerful ally to have on your side, lack of modesty aside. And your reach only holds sway in Omega, and some other parts of the Terminus system for the most part. I would extend that reach substantially."

"All true," Aria conceded, seeming to take no offense when he had pointed out her shortcomings. Then again, she only professed to be absolute in Omega, so she was living up to what she herself wanted, "Anything else?"

"Yeah," grinned Harry, leaning forward, "There's one thing you and I have in common against the Reapers."

"Oh?" Aria leaned forward, looking mildly interested, "And what's that?"

"Survival."

Aria grinned viciously at his response before leaning back against the couch, any traces of hostility gone from her pose.

"Fair enough. An alliance, then. To defeat the Reapers. What specifically do you have in mind?"

"I'm guessing you have an excellent person handling your resources, since your organization is thriving."

"He does his job well, I treat him well," shrugged Aria.

"Yes, well, I'd like him to handle any resources I send your way, away from Cerberus."

Aria considered what he was saying for a few moments.

"Done, but I take 5% of whatever profit he makes for you."

"Fair enough," Harry nodded agreeably. It was an alliance, not a friendship, "I might occasionally ask you for information that your speciality covers."

"If it doesn't interfere with my own operations, why not?"

_This is going better than I thought_ Harry celebrated jubilantly. He was glad that Aria was as intelligent as she was. He was under no illusions to the fact that she only did this for her sake, so she could continue with her own agenda. But he could live with that. This was his first step to achieving independence from Cerberus. He was done with being on someone else's leash since he was a teenager.

"I might need to use your forces sometimes, to keep operations away from Cerberus."

"And I might send you a few...specialized missions you can help me with," replied Aria, smirking openly now. Two of the most powerful forces in their day and age were steadily forming an iron clad agreement.

"That about covers it," concluded Harry cheerfully, "We don't need to shake hands do we?"

"No," replied Aria, "Because if you even think about betraying me, a broken handshake will the least of your worries. Believe me."

The tone was light, conversational one might say, but he knew the hidden force behind it was very serious.

"The same from me as well. As Saren might tell you, I have a way of being very...focused," he shot back at the asari, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Abruptly Aria stood up, and the air of oppression vanished. They had each made their stance clear to the other. There was no need for further posturing.

"Show yourself out, Shepard. Or better yet, enjoy Afterlife for a while."

"Sure thing," Harry sprang up and left, feeling the warm glow of having a plan come to fruition. Perhaps he would indeed stick around for a few drinks and some entertainment. They were all but finished with Omega for the moment at any rate. With that thought in mind, he ventured further into Afterlife, deciding he'd begin with a quiet drink, away from the noise and smell.

"Shepard."

Harry groaned internally and turned around, perking up slightly when he saw that it was Garrus. The turian appeared to have been in Afterlife for some time, and was now eyeing him with a completely neutral expression.

"Garrus old chap! Why don't you join me fo-"

And then Garrus punched him. Punched him so hard that he felt the world spin around him as he collapsed, his head ringing with the force that had been put into the attack. He sprawled on the ground, an undignified mess, and struggled to find the turian in his field of vision once more.

"W-Wha…?"

He couldn't find it in himself to complete the sentence, and instead waited for his head to stop spinning, even as the turian towered above him silently, eyes burning with a cold anger that made the other patrons inch away from him immediately.

It seemed the day wasn't over just yet.

* * *

**Well, that went rather well. Yes, I skipped over this battle. The story will quickly become monotonous if I describe every fight in detail, believe me. At least until Harry can use his powers. Nevertheless, I thought this chapter turned out fairly well, and a few larger strands were set in motion. So I hope you enjoyed it!**

**This Chapter's Question:** **I don't have a very specific one this time, so I'll just ask you generally. What do you think of the story so far? Pros? Cons? Let me know. If you'd like to see something happen, well, telling me would make the odds of it actually happening better. **

**Please drop me a line or two, reading reviews really does give me a boost to keep going.**

**Till next time.**


	7. Chapter 6 - From Afterlife to Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

**We recently crossed 300 reviews as well as over a 1000 followers, and we're still counting! This is really inspiring me to keep this story going, so thank you guys! I'm still thirsting for reviews though, greedy bastard that I am. So keep 'em coming and let's get to 400. pronto xD**

**One question a reviewer asked me was how Garrus seemed so close to Shepard when only the events of the first game have transpired. The answer's simple. If you're looking at it from game terms, as in the cutscenes you've seen and the opportunities you've had to interact with these characters, you'd be right. But look at it from the point of a narrative. These people spent a good number of time together under the kind of circumstances that forge strong bonds between them. And they're not just restricted to conversations and events that the game portrays, they have so many more hours and days of interaction possible. So looking at all that, I'd say it's not that unreasonable.**

**Thanks go to Philosophize and SleeperAwakens as always for helping me out with the chapter. **

**Important Question:**** Would anyone like to help me out with some original cover art for this story? **

* * *

_**Previously**_

_And then Garrus punched him. Punched him so hard that he felt the world spin around him as he collapsed, his head ringing with the force that had been put into the attack. He sprawled on the ground, an undignified mess, and struggled to find the turian in his field of vision once more._

"_W-Wha…?"_

_He couldn't find it in himself to complete the sentence, and instead waited for his head to stop spinning, even as the turian towered above him silently, eyes burning with a cold anger that made the other patrons inch away from him immediately._

_It seemed the day wasn't over just yet._

* * *

With a suppressed snarl of rage, Garrus turned away from Harry, even as he pushed himself off the ground with one hand, and punched the nearby wall a few times, drawing curious looks from the inebriated patrons near them. They were in one of the sparsely populated areas of Afterlife - the kind where one was relieved of one's possessions - and there were no bouncers in sight. Soon, his vision steadied itself as he got to his feet, wincing slightly at the bruise that had begun take shape on his face. He allowed his magic to respond, and a stinging sensation enveloped the left side of his jaw as the magic began to speed up the healing.

"Feel better?" Harry spat out as his vision steadied. The bruise was gone, but echoes of the pain remained, his nerves struggling to catch up with the fact that his injuries were already healed. A casual brush over the turian's mind showed torrents of anger leaving him slowly.

"No," growled Garrus as he wrenched away a nearby chair and sat, before reaching for the nearby table and drinking deeply from the bottle, "But that was a start."

Harry shrugged in response and sat opposite Garrus, grabbing another bottle and glass from a nearby table. The people sitting there had clearly left in a hurry to avoid getting in the midst of a fistfight. Oh well. He had no reservations about picking up where they left off. It would be a crying shame for that bottle to go to waste.

"So," Harry began, coughing slightly as the strong alcohol burned his throat, "How's the headache?"

"Better," Garrus replied shortly, "The booze helped. Woke up feeling like a freighter had landed on my head."

"In my defense, I did warn you." Harry commented lightly, ignoring the death glare that was promptly sent his way. What was with people mastering death glares so often in this time period? But then again, he had received plenty of death glares in his former time as well. From his friends. From his enemies. From random strangers. From his girlfriend.

The last thought evoked a strong sensation of pain, and he clenched his fist as a wave of memories washed over him, bring with it a phantom-like memory of the smell of lotus blossoms. He cruelly wrenched his mind away from those memories, knowing it was for the better. And just in time too, for Garrus looked at him questioningly, as if expecting him to answer something.

"I'm sorry," Harry blinked, taking another sip from the glass to anchor himself with the burning sensation, "What did you say?"

"How did you make me see all that?" Garrus looked irritated at having to repeat himself, though the alcohol appeared to be calming him down a little. Harry rolled his eyes internally. The turian was entitled to a period of anger, being one of John's friends, but he was beginning to walk on thin ice. It wasn't as if Harry had _wanted_ to possess John's body and take up his work.

_When this is all over, I'm gonna annoy that old heap of bones ten times more than I did before,_ he resolved immediately as he considered how to answer Garrus. Death deserved a hefty amount of payback for setting up the stage for him to accept John's mission. Even as he plotted his revenge, he gathered his magic, weaving a fairly strong privacy charm around them. It wouldn't do for anyone - even drunks - to see or overhear what would transpire.

"I simply gave you my memories of what transpired to make me be present...well, here," he answered concisely, gesturing at his surroundings with distaste. Not the seedy bar, of course. He loved those. He meant the mortal realm, the one place he had sworn never to return to when he had first left. He had often considered willing a seedy bar into existence in the crossroads. Surely recently deceased souls could use a place like that before moving on?

"That doesn't really answer much," muttered Garrus as he set the empty bottle aside. The turian could throw a drink down, that much was certain.

"The explanation is a long one, Garrus," he continued in a light tone, "You'll hear things that'll sound farfetched or insane. In fact, I'm sure you'll feel that way even after the memories I showed you."

Garrus snorted at that and leaned back against his chair.

"I don't think anything could shock me after seeing John apparently talking to Death, and then inviting someone else to take over his body."

Harry frowned. Somehow, when Garrus phrased it like that, it sounded wrong. But then, was there a good way of telling someone what had happened?

I filled your dead friend's body.

_No, that's not it_.

I hijacked this empty meat sack.

_That's even worse._

Harry sighed and gave up. If he was lucky, he just wouldn't have to describe it very often to many people. While his rational half shouted out the fact that luck had never been on his side, perhaps John's luck would boost his own.

"Memories were the best way to show you. If I'd told you verbally what had happened, would you have believed me?" he asked the turian.

"I'm not sure I believe you now, but point taken," muttered Garrus.

There was silence for a few minutes, while Harry fetched them another bottle. If he had to have this conversation now, then by Merlin's saggy underpants he was going to be buzzed while doing it. A part of his was glad, however, as it seemed optimistic that he would have one true ally by the end of the conversation. The anger that Garrus had been holding was dissipating steadily, and the turian seemed to realize that he wasn't an enemy. It was a start.

"...So John really is dead huh?" Garrus asked quietly after a few moments. Harry inclined his head in response.

"Yeah. Going by his memories, I'm not surprised. Even he couldn't have survived what he went through when that ship attacked."

"Then how the hell did you? Is there rea- What the fuck is going on?!" Garrus had clearly become frustrated by how confusing things were. Harry couldn't blame him, though he would be lying if he said he was enjoying the conclusion. In one sitting, the turian would have to grow used to the idea of magic, magical entities and the very real presence of an entity for death.

"Look," Harry began, "I know you want answers and I'll tell you what I can. I will not, however, tell you absolutely everything. There are some things that simply aren't your business. Or anyone else's business, for that matter. But you do deserve to hear about what happened with John, at the very least, and I should probably give you the basics about me."

It was obvious that Garrus wasn't happy about the situation or about being denied information, but he kept himself under control.

"To start off with," Harry explained, "I am and was always human - as human as John, in fact. The one difference between me and other humans you know is that I'm capable of something my people called "magic." We lived in small, isolated communities scattered across our planet, hidden from the rest of the human population. I say "lived" because it's all gone now - as far as I can tell, I'm the last human wizard in the universe." He couldn't entirely keep the regret and sadness out of his voice, though he doubted that Garrus would notice.

"Magic?" Garrus barked. "Do you really expect me to believe something like that?" Harry could hear the table creak in protest as Garrus' grip on the table's edge tightened. "You're going to need to do a whole lot better than that, asshole," he growled out.

Clearly, a practical demonstration of magic would be required.

"Yes, magic," Harry replied. "You don't have to take my word for it, of course."

Harry made an obvious show of flicking his hand, just so there wouldn't be any misunderstandings on Garrus' part that what happened next was being caused by him. Without any warning, the empty bottle sitting in front of Garrus seemed to melt and reform itself, becoming a living, breathing hamster...which then proceeded to do mad circuits around the table, squeaking in fear or confusion. With another obvious flick of his hand, Harry cast a coloring charm on Garrus, turning him lime green all over.

Garrus sat still, his body frozen as he tried to process what he had just seen. This was not helped by the hamster, which had launched itself off the table, and was trying to burrow into his damaged armor.

"W-What? How did yo-," here Garrus sighed before reaching for the hamster and pulling it off his armor, "...I'm gonna need another drink."

"Your wish is my command," Harry responded cheerily before waving his hand once more. The hamster warped and grew until it was in the shape of a bottle. Garrus yelped, almost letting go as the transformation occurred. Harry sniggered at the sight of the turian yelping like a child.

"Stop that!" hissed Garrus, "And I'm not drinking something that just came out of a hamster!"

Harry's laughter increased in intensity while Garrus looked even more irritated. It was strange. He had not realized he was so out of touch with appropriateness. The right thing to do wouldn't have been to laugh at a tangent, as he was doing right now.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," the turian growled as Harry's laughter died down. Harry chuckled a few more times, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

"Alright, alright," he spoke amicably before conjuring another bottle and handing it to Garrus, "Although technically, the hamster originally came from the bottle too you know."

"Whatever," growled Garrus, opening the bottle a little viciously, "And stop making me look like a fluorescent drell."

"I was hoping you would forget about that," Harry muttered as he held out his own glass, willing Garrus' color back to normal as he did so. The dark ambience in Afterlife had ensured that the change would not be visible to people farther away. He had remembered to capture the image on his omnitool though. Who said the Marauders were dead? Once again, it seemed he had abandoned all sense of appropriate behavior.

"You need to make a choice now Garrus," Harry told the turian, serious once again, "I need your help to complete John's mission. Now you know that John himself was the one who asked me to do this. Will you keep my secret and help me?"

"What if I say no?" Garrus asked after a few minutes of consideration.

"I erase your memory of the last half an hour, as well as your suspicions of me, and we carry on with the mission like before," Harry replied easily, a response which caused a spike of anger to rise within the turian.

"You really are a heartless bastard aren't you?" Garrus laughed bitterly, "I can see you really would do it."

"Not by choice," Harry shrugged, "But frankly, only reason I'm here is because that heap of bones set up a situation where I'd feel sorry for John. I gave him my word. And a word once given..."

"Then you really can do it? You can stop the Reapers?" Garrus asked, his eyes lighting up with a strange intensity.

"With the things I know and the things I've fought against...Yeah, I'd say I stand a pretty good chance. But I can't do it alone. With the number of Reapers there are, I'm gonna need every resource I can get," Harry replied honestly. Truly, it was the reason he was going through all this. An Imperiused person would suffer from a loss of faculties, meaning they wouldn't live up to their full talent or potential in battle. Compulsion charms did not last forever, and memory charms often caused damage in the long run. He needed comrades who were in their prime, and were with him of their own free will.

The tense silence continued for several minutes longer, though Harry spent most of that time shrinking and enlarging his empty glass. Garrus appeared to be wrestling with several lines of thought, and the turmoil reached Harry even through passive legilimency.

"Fine!" Garrus half-shouted as he slammed his fist into the table, making a slight dent in the metal. "If keeping your secret is the price I have to pay to fight the Collectors, then I'll do it. Damn you for asking it, and damn me for agreeing to it!"

Garrus squeezed both his hands into fists and leaned forward to speak a bit more quietly and a lot more menacingly. "But understand this well. I'm doing this because John wanted to stop the Reapers. I was his friend, not yours. And if you ever break your word to him, all bets are off. Got it?"

"Fair enough," Harry nodded, not having expected anything more, "Now, I can tell you a few more things about myself and my powers. You'll probably need to know this for when we fight together. But before that, wanna try a little specialty called grog?"

...He really needed to learn how to read the situation again soon.

* * *

"_Commander. We will soon be arriving at the Citadel docking bay. Do you wish for any of the crew members to accompany you?"_

Harry looked up from his private terminal, where he had been re-reading the message Anderson had sent him. Anderson was, by all accounts, an honorable man. But competence in politics was not one of his virtues. Yet, John had apparently recommended him for the post of Councillor. Given the other prime candidate, Udina, Harry could empathize with the decision completely.

_Well, hopefully he'll be able to do something for me. If not help me, at least make sure these Council bastards don't actively oppose me. Funny how much they remind me of the Wizengamot. I guess politics is the same in every species._

He looked up from the terminal, deciding there was no harm in trying. It was unlikely that the Council would try to stop him by force, even if they learned he was alive. Soon, he would have to make it known that he wasn't dead. And he knew just how to do it. After Rita Skeeter, handling any reporter would be a piece of cake.

"No, EDI, I don't need any of them. I doubt Anderson would like it if I showed up with Cerberus. Or mercenaries. Or mad scientists."

"_Acknowledged, Commander. I will let them know."_

"Let the Normandy crew have a couple of hours on shore, I'm sure I'll be here for a while."

"_Shore times have not been scheduled for this stop, Commander."_

"The Illusive Man gave me control over this and crew, correct?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Then announce it now. Keep essential personnel on board, we'll rotate them out the next time we stop somewhere. And one or two people on sentry duty."

"_And the members of your team?"_

"They can leave if they want. I'm sure they'll all have business to take care of or private supplies to restock. Make sure they're all back half an hour before departure. Oh, and please make sure none of them go out in their Cerberus uniforms. Civilian gear only, I'd rather not announce the presence of the organization to everyone around."

"_I will ask them to remain incognito Commander."_

"Thank you Commander!" exclaimed an excited voice and Harry turned around to see a beaming Kelly Chambers wringing her hands, "I'm sure this will help keep morale high!"

"Well, I'm glad the resident shrink signed off on this," he replied amusedly, even as excited murmurs broke out in the Command Center. EDI was making the announcements throughout the ship, and his eyes widened in panic, realizing Miranda would probably not approve.

"Right! I'm gonna get going then," he spoke in a burst of speed, surprising Kelly with his tone. His eyes were fixed on the elevator controls. Oh no. Someone had just entered the elevator. Perhaps they were headed to a different floor?

_Oh crap. It's headed here. Am I just imagining it or is Miranda making that elevator go faster with the power of her mind?_

Harry wisely beat a hasty retreat to the exit, bidding a hurried farewell to Kelly as he started. Not because he was afraid of facing the person in the elevator of course. That would be silly. No, he just wanted to make sure he was on time for his appointment with Anderson. He placed great importance on etiquette and punctuality after all.

"_**Will Commander Shepard please enter his password and claim the prize?"**_

"Madness slobbers around me like a certain three headed Cerberus," Harry muttered. He had almost cleared the bay doors when EDI reminded him of the potential recruit on the Citadel. Kasumi Goto, a master thief. He was rather excited about this recruit, as stealth had been a glaring weakness on his team. And who would be better to fill that position than this Kasumi Goto? His exuberance vanished, however, when he learned of the ridiculous cloak-and-dagger game he needed to play to find this thief.

Harry sighed and stepped up to the terminal in question, wearing a grumpy look on his face.

"What?" he asked, in no mood to spout off one of the proverbs that had apparently survived into this century.

"_**Please enter your password to redeem your prize."**_

"Bite me," he barked in a petulant tone, "You in or not?"

"_**Oooh. Does being dead for two years make you this grumpy Commander?"**_

Harry remained silent, waiting for a meaningful response. He had endless patience after all. Sitting in front of an imaginary lake for a few hundred years had a funny way of bringing that trait out in him. Sure, he'd been running around like a hamster on coffee since he was revived, but that was mostly him rejoicing in the feeling of having a physical body once more. He could be boundlessly patient if he wanted to be. Maybe.

"_**Alright, alright. I'm guessing Cerberus told you about our little arrangement?"**_

"Let me guess. You need my help with something," he asked with a raised eyebrow. He was consciously avoiding the fact that a few of the passers by were staring at him with curious looks. He would be pranking Kasumi Goto for this, make no mistake.

"_**Pretty much. Should be simple for someone with your skills Commander. I need to retrieve something of value from someone."**_

"And by retrieve you mean…"

"_**Appropriate inconspicuously without the owner's notice. If possible."**_

"Riiiiiight. A heist. I'll need to know more than that before I decide."

"_**Not over an advertisement system Commander. We're already drawing attention."**_

"Great," Harry grumbled, "I'm gonna be called a maniac before I even enter the Citadel this time. Report to the Normandy, Ms. Goto. We'll discuss the details there."

"_**Cheers to that. See you on the ship Shep!"**_

Suddenly a flash of movement on an upper level caught his eye, and he looked up just in time to see a flicker before it was gone. He felt even more irritated now. She had been above him the entire time, talking down to him. And worse, she had ended on a rhyme!

_She said "Ship Shep". Now I need to find something that rhymes with Goto. Could this day get any worse?_

Harry stepped through a sort of scanning mechanism that led to the inner portion of the Citadel, only to stumble to a halt when a wide range of sirens and alarms went off, and the nearby guard immediately drew his weapon, checking his screen warily as he did so. A confused look spread over the guard's face as he lowered his weapon tentatively. If it was possible to smack a holographic display to make sure it was working properly, this guard looked like he would have done it.

"There must be something wrong with the system, Commander. According to these files, you're supposed to be dead."

_Yep. It got worse._

* * *

Anderson had his back turned to the door when Harry walked in, though it was clear that John's mentor knew he had entered. Harry took a few seconds to survey the office he was in. Sparse, efficient, and neatly kept. Old habits died hard after all. Despite being in a position to display extravagance at a high level, Anderson had kept his office as he would his cabin on an Alliance cruiser. The difference of course lay with the roominess of the office as well as the view, which was quite magnificent. The Citadel really was a marvellous structure. Despite possessing John's memories, Harry had still been awestruck when he had walked in.

"Shepard! Welcome back to the ranks of the living," Anderson spoke, turning away from the view and walking towards him. Despite his initial silence, his face now bore a slight smile - the smile with which he - well, John - had been greeted. He sensed no animosity from the man, only the shadow of a doubt, "I wasn't sure if you'd gotten my message."

"It's been a long time Anderson," he smiled with a familiarity he didn't think he'd have, "How's political life treating you?"

At that Anderson's face fell slightly as he gestured for Harry to join him at the window.

"There've been...some rough spots. A lot of the time I wonder if I was the wrong choice for this. I'm a soldier, Shepard. This isn't my battlefield."

Harry sighed. He could empathize with the man completely. He had hated politics in his day, and had been more than happy to give his political clout to Amelia Bones. The woman had been built for the political arena, and with both his and Neville's support behind her, she had become a formidable opponent. But he still knew of the importance of politics. John had not used many of the tools available to him to their full potential. One was the media. Another was this: politics.

_It makes sense. He was a military boy, probably wanted to stay away from these arenas all his life_ Harry realized. But he would not be the same.

"Don't doubt yourself Anderson, that'll make you even more of a politician," he grinned in response, "And we already have Udina for that."

Anderson gave a low chuckle, "I'm actually finding him tolerable these days Shepard. You tell me that's not a sign."

"The Reapers are coming, Anderson," Harry spoke seriously, and Anderson's face turned grim as well, "That's why I'm with Cerberus. The Collectors are abducting thousands of humans from the Terminus system, and I'm sure they're being used by the Reapers."

"Like Saren and the geth were," Anderson mused, " I gotta say, I was wondering what you were doing with Cerberus. I wish we could help those colonies Shepard, but they settled as far out as they did to get away from the system. They won't listen to the Alliance."

"I know," Harry nodded, "That's why I need to be with them. At least until I get rid of these Collectors. Cerberus is in the best position to help."

"Cerberus...I won't ask anymore, Shepard. You've earned my trust and more, even if the rest of the Council won't agree with me. But be careful. That setup is one of the shadiest I've come across, and I've come across a lot. They can be ruthless to get what they want."

Harry smiled at Anderson, knowing the man genuinely trusted him. It made him feel all the more guilty for putting on an act in front of him, even if Shepard _was_ a part of him, technically. But not his soul, and the soul was where all the difference lay. Harry had never thought otherwise. If only Voldemort had understood that...Well, he would still have done what he did, most probably. The man was most likely insane before he had split his soul. A prime example of what inbreeding usually led to.

"Don't worry Anderson. I'm using them, but I don't trust them. And I'm pretty sure they feel the same way about me."

"Good," Anderson nodded firmly, "I wish I could do more to help you Shepard. But I can reinstate your Spectre status."

Harry looked at Anderson in surprise. If used right, that would open more venues than Anderson seemed to think. Classified information, the odd secret schematic, this would help greatly. And it opened up more venues for his...alternative pursuits, away from Cerberus.

"Won't the Council give you trouble over this?" he asked curiously.

"I'll handle the Council. They can't object to this, it'd be political suicide. You're a hero to humans as well as the other species. Well, most of them. And I can keep them off your back while you do what you need to. But that's where the help stops, Commander."

"That's all I need Anderson," Harry replied quietly, "I-

The door suddenly hissed open, interrupting Harry. He turned around, only to find Udina walking through the door, looking very much like a bulldog was grabbing on to his testicles.

"Anderson! We need to talk abou- What's _he_ doing here?"

"Good to see you too, _adviser_ Udina," Harry shot back cheerfully. The dig had its intended effect, and Udina's pale face went red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Near him, Anderson looked torn between staying stoic and smiling.

"I'd heard you were alive of course but I didn't expect to see you on the Citadel," Udina spoke slowly. Already the man's mind was working at a million miles, no doubt trying to calculate the political repercussions and how he could use them.

"No one's accused me of predictability yet," Harry shot back easily, knowing Udina had never been fond of witty responses. He felt a moment of great kinship with John, who had also taken the occasional verbal potshot at the politician.

"I hope you didn't do anything foolish, Councillor," Udina spoke to Anderson, a trace of condescension in his tone, as if he were explaining simple rules to a child, "The Council will not be pleased if you-"

"I don't answer to you Udina!" Anderson cut in sharply, "Why don't you go to office and think about that for a while?"

"Of course. Good day...to both of you."

And with that he was gone, leaving Harry snickering internally to himself. Anderson had just given Udina the diplomatic version of a time out. This was another pensieve worthy memory.

"Sorry about that. Udina's never gotten over the fact that I got this position. Need to put him in his place once in a while," Anderson spoke apologetically.

"Don't be, I just wish I'd recorded a holovid of that."

"Stay safe Commander. And show the Reapers why they don't mess with us. My door's always open if you need something."

"See you around Anderson."

Harry was about to withdraw from the office when he decided to take a gamble. It was a dangerous one, but he had to play the odds.

"Anderson...the Reapers might not be a threat I can fight as an Alliance soldier. I don't just mean this time, I mean the big one."

"You'll do what's needed, Shepard. I've never doubted that. Just...keep me in the loop."

Harry nodded, relief clear on his face as he began to walk away. He had no intention of rejoining the Alliance if he did survive after taking down the Collectors. They were too small, too focused on their own part of the galaxy. It would be foolish to assume they alone could deal with a galactic threat. But as long as he had Anderson in his corner, they would still treat him as an ally. Or so he hoped.

_Hopefully Miranda's calmed down by now. I should probably look around the Spectre area and establish a link before heading back, just to be on the safe side._

* * *

**Normandy Debriefing Room**

"Right. Who're we recruiting this time? A bloody elcor?" grumbled Zaeed as he trudged into the room.

"Unlikely. Am not aware of elcor with skills that help this operation. Might not fit in with team dynamic. Such as it is. Can't wait to be in field properly again."

And thus did Mordin make his entrance, after which he proceeded to pace energetically from corner to corner, muttering under his breath as he did so. It made Harry dizzy to look at him. He hadn't seen so much energy in one place since the Creevy brothers, and even they would perhaps be hard pressed to match the salarian doctor.

"This is probably our most dangerous candidate yet. Frankly, I wasn't in support of this choice at all," Miranda spoke from where she stood near the end of the room, bringing up the profile that they had been sent. Pictures of a snarling woman covered with tattoos filled the display. Harry gave a low whistle as he looked at a vid where she was tearing apart dozens of mercenaries before finally being subdued. The woman was the most powerful biotic he had seen, including the ones John had come across.

"Looks like a nasty piece of work," Garrus commented, leaning casually against the nearby wall, "But she'll be handy in a fight."

"Yeah. So long as she attacks the Collectors and not us," muttered Jacob. Harry could tell it went against the soldier's nature mindset to hire help such as Zaeed and Jack. But Garrus was right. They needed extraordinary individuals. And this woman certainly fit the bill. It only remained to be seen if she would be willing to treat them as allies.

"What do we know about this prison?" Harry asked, looking around at the group.

"_Purgatory is a maximum security starship, Commander. It is owned and run privately by the Blue Suns. Many of the prisoners are highly dangerous, and are kept contained in pods."_

"And this Jack is one of the most guarded prisoners there. Cerberus had to pay handsomely to negotiate her release," Miranda cut in.

"That bastard Vido," growled Zaeed, "I told him not to get into the slavery business. But he did. Any meatbag that can work is sold to batarian slavers, and I hear talk he's holding political prisoners too."

"Really? I thought mercenaries were all about the money," Jacob shot back.

"There's money enough to be had without getting into slave trading or bedding a politician," Zaeed growled, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to shoot Jacob where he stood.

"That's enough," Harry ordered, not wanting the confrontation to escalate any further.

"So, who gets in on the fun this time Shep?" asked Kasumi, almost making him swear as she suddenly appeared next to him. He had taken the woman on after hearing out her favor. It hadn't sounded too complicated, and she was certainly skilled. She would be a great asset, if he didn't shoot her first for her sudden appearance acts.

"Everyone," he announced, drawing curious looks from the rest of the group.

"Shepard, this is just a prisoner exchange. We don't need everyone," Miranda spoke, looking visibly surprised by his decision.

"Zaeed, how trustworthy are the Blue Suns?" Harry asked, indirectly seeking to answer Miranda.

"Wouldn't trust 'em to lace my boots," Zaeed replied grimly.

"Right. So maybe we walk in there and things go smoothly, but we don't really have a good history with luck do we?" Harry asked rhetorically, "So we need a backup plan. Just in case things go pear-shaped."

"What does possible hostile situation have to do with shape of Earth fruit?" Mordin chipped in, looking confused.

Harry sighed in response.

"So, here's the plan. I go in with Garrus and Mordin to meet the Warden. They might see us as a threat if I take more people. Hopefully, nothing will go wrong. But in case it does...EDI, can you get us the prison schematics?"

Immediately the layout of the prison appeared before them, and the entire group drew closer as they studied the prison.

"This thing's tighter than a volus suit," grunted Zaeed as he studied the schematics with his one good eye. Harry shook his head. Where Zaeed came up with these comparisons he would never understand. The life of a mercenary held untold depths it would seem.

"Kasumi, do you see anything you can use?"

"They only have a few entrance point and they guard those pretty well," Kasumi murmured, "We're not getting in through those places without some serious weapons."

"But…?" Harry prompted, guessing the thief had a workaround. Someone of her reputation had surely overcome far worse.

"But they have this system where they can eject entire prisoner pods if something goes wrong," Kasumi grinned, magnifying that part of the schematic, "So if we can hack the pod controls, we can just eject an empty pod and use that to gain access to the prison."

"Seems like a very small window," Harry said, scanning the schematic skeptically, "Can you really get the rest of the crew in before it closes?"

"I can't," shrugged Kasumi, "At least, not unless I'm already on the inside. You know, this is one of those times when having an ace up your sleeve can really help. Like an intelligence that makes all other systems seem like rocks in comparison. An ace like-"

"EDI," Harry finished, smiling slightly, "What about it EDI? Can you hack the pod controls?"

"_The pod controls have personnel overseeing them. I can take control, but it will not go unnoticed."_

"Pod controls only necessary if excrement makes physical contact with a hydro-electric powered oscillating air current distribution device. Subtlety irrelevant at that point," Mordin noted wisely. Harry almost choked as he realized what the salarian had just said in his own unique way. Even Miranda couldn't help but smile, while Zaeed merely looked confused by the proceedings.

"Enough of the squinty talk," Zaeed grumbled, "So basically, you hit the buggers from the front while we wait and attack from another point if we're needed, right?"

"That's...surprisingly well condensed, if crudely expressed," Miranda commented, looking slightly shocked, as if she hadn't expected the mercenary to make so much sense.

"Surprising and crude. That's me in a nutshell sweetheart," Zaeed grinned, showcasing his best lecherous-old-man leer. To her credit, Miranda didn't even bat an eyelid at the response, choosing instead to continue perusing the schematics.

"Right, we have our plan. The Normandy can't take you near the pods, but the shuttle can. Wait in the shuttle, deploy _only_ if I give the signal. Kasumi, find the best point of entrance and let EDI know. We're dock at the prison in two hours."

* * *

**Purgatory**

"...EDI, give the signal," Harry sighed as he shot a downed guard before blasting away a FENRIS mech had that been seconds away from damaging him. He didn't even know why he had called that plan a backup plan. With his luck, the easy way out should have seemed the more remote scenario. He winced as a cryogenic attack from Mordin soared close to him, narrowly making it past him. Mordin was precise, which was a good thing. Sometimes he was a little too precise, and Harry didn't know what to make of that just yet.

"_I have already ejected the pod Ms. Goto selected. I have also managed to delay the time taken to close the pod to allow a greater percentage of success."_

"Take this!" growled Garrus as he fired a high impact shot at the unfortunate mercenary who had been frozen over. Chunks of ice exploded everywhere, concealing the gruesome reality of what had really just happened.

_Well. Long as he keeps the gun pointed at the other side I guess_ Harry shrugged internally. The uneasy peace established between him and Garrus was just that - uneasy. So far, the turian had not questioned the orders he had shouted out, nor had he proclaimed to all around him who Harry really was. So far, Harry was inclined to count that as a winning situation.

"_Shep, we're in. Looks like there's disturbance from the prisoners as well. The guards were way too busy to even notice a pod being ejected."_

"_Or they noticed, but decided to bugger it while they put down insane inmates."_

"_Thank you, Zaeed. Shep, can we just leave Massani here? I think he'd fit right in."_

"No, we're not abandoning Zaeed in Purgatory," Harry rolled his eyes.

"_Abandon is such an ugly word. It's a large station. He could get lost."_

"Nope. Now, focus. Your job is to cause even more chaos. Hit the guards and disappear before they can gather themselves from different parts of the station. Circle around while we cut a path through to Jack. Kasumi, cloak yourself and see if you can hack any of the closed circuit security systems that EDI can't reach."

"_Roger that Commander."_

That was Jacob, sounding grim as ever. It amused Harry how many of the candidates shortlisted for the mission weren't favored by Miranda or Jacob. Then again, this wasn't a Cerberus recruitment drive. The Illusive Man had all but said out loud that the mission could be fatal. This group was only meant to hold together for as long as it took to destroy the Collectors. It made Harry wonder - did the Illusive Man truly hold his two agents in such high regard, or was there something else in the works?

The next room only had a single technician of some sort, barely able to hold a pistol the right way. Immediately Mordin neutralized him, before moving to the console that the technician had been standing near.

"Prisoner Jack contained nearby. Can free from here, but unlikely to know how prisoner will react. System flags as extremely violent."

"Do it," Harry said without a second thought, "She can't make it past the entire station on her own. And even if she does, she can't leave without a ship."

"Very well. Releasing from pod."

A thunderous explosion rocked the area downstairs in a few minutes, and even Mordin looked taken aback by what he had just seen.

"Better get down there, Jack might need help," Harry suggested, walking towards the nearby stairs rapidly.

"Wouldn't worry about Jack," Mordin muttered as he followed suit, while Garrus brought up the rear as always. It was far from a perfect formation, as none of them were the "meat" so to speak. Restricted to imitating an adept as he was, Harry realized he would need Zaeed on his squad, at least until he had some other recruits in. Luckily the nature of Purgatory and its defenses allowed them to exploit the enemy fairly easily, so far at least.

"Holy shit," he drew in a sharp breath as he took in the carnage that greeted him. Far from needing help, Jack had apparently torn through heavy mechs like they were nothing, leaving a trail of devastation and smoking metal in her wake.

"Biotic ability was said to be extremely enhanced. Still, did not expect this level of proficiency. Formidable power," Mordin commented as he salvaged what he could from the mechs and their surroundings.

"No wonder they didn't want to let Jack go," Harry remarked, understanding why the Blue Suns would risk making an enemy of Cerberus. This Jack was their equivalent of a golden goose. Her continued imprisonment would act as a sort of trophy, while even partial access to her could be levied for a high price.

"This could be dangerous. Imagine someone with this kind of power on the ship. She could tear it apart if she hits the right place," Garrus spoke, concern clear in his tone. Harry could understand his concern. If Jack was even half as unbalanced as the file and her escape seemed to indicate, they could have trouble convincing her to cooperate. But even as he thought about it, a grin threatened to break out on his face. A bloodthirsty grin. This was the first time he had come across someone who could use biotics enough that it resembled an aspect of magic.

He would not let this opportunity slip by him. Jack would be convinced. He flexed his fingers. She had perhaps never come across one who could rival her biotic ability. He would be the first.

* * *

Corpses littered the station as the guards killed the prisoners, and the prisoners killed the guards. It mattered not which hand took which soul. Death stood near them all, waiting for that last breath which would take them from their domain into his. His master had used the invisibility cloak as a tool once. But it had taken years for him to understand what it truly meant to be invisible.

His master was impatient, struggling with the fact that he had to hide his true power and himself. It had been a matter of pride, after all, that he had never allowed anything to come between himself and who he truly was. But his master had also been rotting away at the crossroads, though he would never admit it, even to himself. This was where he belonged, in the ever-changing nexus of energy that was the living world.

Suddenly Death stopped, seconds away from collecting yet another soul. A strange tremor ran through its being as its form shuddered uncontrollably, as if fighting something that lay within. Souls howled and screamed as the very fabric of the Crossroads began to warp and distort.

A ripple of power ran through the realm as Death exerted its will, forcing the contortions to stop. An air of uneasiness hung about the realm, as if the very motion of nature had been torn asunder. Death held out a skeletal hand and inspected it, almost contemplatively.

**The real stakes of the game we play are higher than you think, my master.**

Death watched as his master shot down yet another enemy, eyes gleaming dangerously. It could not reach out to the soul as effortlessly as it once could, a feeling of strain in its action as it drew the soul onwards for the next journey.

**For if you fail in your task, I will be no more.**

* * *

**I know, I know. You're probably looking at me like I'm crazy and asking me how an entity such as Death could possibly cease to exist. Well, in the interest of the story, such as it is, the explanation will have to be revealed in bits and pieces. This chapter, as you can see, was mostly filler-ish. Like I said in an earlier note, I'm not gonna throw in an awesome OMFG fight scene in every chapter. Doesn't make sense to do it that way. And again, as I said earlier, the story will begin to diverge from canon significantly very soon. So please, remember that we're only on chapter 6 right now :P**

**Question For This Chapter:** **Is it time for another flashback to Harry's past? Do you guys actually like those little 1000-word snippets that give you some insight into how Harry's life was?**

**Reviews. The tank needs to be recharged before it can fuel the next chapter xD**

**Oh, and also, I've begun working on this very interesting Naruto crossover story called A Fallen God Rises. Check it out if you're interested!**

**Till next time!**


	8. Chapter 7 - Pandora's Box is Opened

**To everyone wondering why this update took so long - the unthinkable happened. No, not finding water on Mars. No, not a pope being compared to a democrat. Bigger even than that. Someone has decided I'm worth dating (may god bless her soul). You can probably guess the rest. No, I haven't given up on this story. No, not all updates will take this long. I think I have a routine that should work pretty well now.**

**Well, without further ado, here's the chapter.**

* * *

"My station!" roared the Blue Suns commander as he cowered behind a blue shield, his eyes shining with a desperate, futile rage. He knew what would happen. He knew from the way the shield was already beginning to flicker, two of its power sources now lying in a smoking heap of metal. He knew it by the way his men fell around him like marionettes whose strings had just been cut.

It felt good, Harry had to admit. Out of all the evils he had encountered in his life, very few things stung quite like betrayal did. False pretences. Hiding true intentions behind a mask of truth. His blood boiled even though he had anticipated this particular betrayal. Every fiber of his being itched to tear down the pathetic shield before him and make the commander beg for death. But he restrained himself, knowing an intellect as keen as Mordin's could not be lied to for very long.

_Huh. Is it bad that I've felt anger like this more times than I'd care to count? Maybe I do need to talk to a shrink. But really, Kelly seems like she'd faint if I told her even some of what I feel._

It wasn't a particularly fair assessment of Kelly, he knew. The woman possessed an unusually mind - Strength to hear out the torments of people and help them heal, and yet, an almost child-like naivety when it came to her ideals and how easily she trusted.

"Shield down!" Garrus roared in victory as the azure dome around the warden faded out of existence. Harry sighed and launched a mildly powered blast at an already downed mercenary who had been crawling towards his weapon. He really needed to stop sinking into thought in the middle of a battle.

"Bringing down enemy's shields," Mordin muttered, his omnitool flaring to life as he attacked the warden.

"Firing concussive shots!" Garrus called, and the blue suns commander was soon being tossed about like a ragdoll. To his credit, the enemy turian sprang for cover immediately, tossing a grenade at them as he did so. The warden could take a beating. But it was nowhere near enough.

Harry flicked his hand, blasting away the grenade before it could reach his squad. Then he dashed forward, vaunting through a barricade smoothly before bringing up his heavy pistol, firing steady but powerful shots at the warden. The turian's defenses, already torn apart from previous attacks, put up little to no resistance as his body was torn apart, the hateful gaze in his eyes long since replaced by fear.

Well," drawled Garrus, leaning his rifle against the ground, "Is it just me or was that a letdown after all the Heavy Mechs?"

"I think the explosions rattled your head pretty hard," Harry replied, drawling just as effectively as Garrus. Draco Malfoy - bless his little blonde head - had known how to modulate his voice if nothing else, "Wouldn't most people be happy that this didn't top the YMIRs?"

"Well I'm not saying I'm happy," Garrus scratched his ch- chin? mandible? ...thing? idly as he recovered his breath, "I'm just saying. Shouldn't places like these be harder to get through?"

"Well maybe it was a breeze coz we took care of half of 'em, princess," Zaeed's ever-charming voice reached their ears, causing Garrus to grunt noncommittally before kicking over a nearby corpse.

"Yes, resistance would be much heavier without flanking attack," muttered Mordin as he salvaged whatever he could from their vicinity.

_I do like how efficient he is _Harry thought amusedly. It was the problem of working with remarkable individuals. They were great to have around in a fight, and yet, keeping secrets from them would be all the more harder for it. Well, he'd have to rely on half-lies to avoid overt suspicion. Dumbledore had been a master of the art after all, and he had certainly been around the old wizard long enough to pick up a thing or two.

"The station is collapsing," Miranda stated calmly as an explosion rocked the entire prison, "And we still don't know where Jack is."

"_Prisoner Jack is nearing the transport bay. Her path will lead her to a dead end."_

"About time something went right," Jacob sighed, "Let's just recruit her and get off this damn station before all of us get blown to hell."

Harry grinned viciously. The YMIRs Jack had dismantled before escaping had only been the start. She had left a trail of destruction behind her that was, quite frankly, impressive. The sheer power behind her attacks put her on the same level as a competent force mage. Mordin's muttering had reached a capacity beyond sentient comprehension as the trail had continued.

"Well then. Let's not keep our newest recruit waiting!"

"Why do I get the feeling this is the recruit he's most interested in?" Jacob muttered as he watched Harry almost skip through the dead bodies as he began to move towards the docking bay.

"I'm not certain that should surprise us at this point," Miranda replied, rolling her eyes as she too began to follow Shepard, as did the rest of the crew.

* * *

"Get the fuck outta my way," snarled Jack, her entire body densely coiled, as one would see in threatened animals. Her lips were pulled up in a feral snarl, blood splattered across a portion of her face.

_She definitely looks the part of the psychopathic killer if nothing else_ Harry thought wryly as she raised a hand threatening, the air humming slightly because of the biotic energy she had gathered. Impressive.

"Oh? And where do you think you'll go if we step aside? The whole station's falling apart, and my ship is the only way out of here," Harry shot back amusedly, though he stayed on his guard. His nonchalant attitude only seemed to anger Jack even more.

"Yeah? Then maybe that's where I'll go when blow you all to fucking pieces," Jack cut in, her eyes blazing. Harry was about to shoot back another response, thoroughly enjoying the bravado, when Garrus stepped up near him.

"This isn't the time for your stupid games," Garrus growled softly into his ear, "This station is a fucking time bomb. Knock her out and take her if you have to."

"I'm not stupid," Jack continued ranting, "That ship has Cerberus markings. What the fuck is Cerberus even doing here?"

"It's a long story, and Garrus here just reminded me that getting my team trapped in here isn't really going to help," Harry replied lightly, making Garrus snort behind him. Good. He hadn't lost his flair for understatement just yet, "All you need to know now is that we need your help on a mission. That's why we came to Purgatory. That's why you're free right now. I'd say you owe us for that alone."

"I'd have broken out eventually," Jack sneered, "You're gonna have to do better than that. If you Cerberus creeps want me to help, I want something in return."

"Apart from your continued existence?" Harry asked mildly, making her scowl, "Name your price."

"I want access to Every. Single. Cerberus file. All the dirty little secrets that they've been hiding. You aren't even wearing the Cerberus uniform. Do you what kind of people you're riding with right now?"

Another explosion rocked the prison, and the grates beneath their feet screamed in protest as they were strained beyond their limits. Harry signalled with his hand, gesturing for his crew to head back to the ship. They did so slowly, trailing many glances behind them until only Miranda and Garrus remained. Miranda was practically radiating fury at Jack's request.

"Shepard, you can't seriously be considering this," Miranda spat, "You may not agree with our methods, but that doesn't mean you should give this psychopath everything!"

"Oooh, the cheerleader looks pissed. Even better," Jack grinned viciously, "So, whaddya say?"

Harry considered quickly for a few seconds.

"Done. But you don't get the files right away. Once you get what you need, there's nothing stopping you from blowing the ship apart. First you earn your stripes, then you get your access."

"You don't have the power to authorize that!" Miranda exclaimed in outrage. Harry quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

"Cerberus is using me just as much as I'm using them. Our common goal is to stop the Collectors and the Reapers. For that, we need people like Jack. I have every right to do this."

"And how do I know I can trust you?" Jack growled, looking ever-so-tempted to attack them. But she stayed her hand. Good. That meant she didn't lose herself to violence, and could focus. Or so he hoped. There was little room for wildcards when they were so few in number.

_Well, except me_ Harry thought smugly _And I'm an awesome wild card._

"Like you said, I'm not Cerberus. And as you just saw, I don't answer to them. I've made my offer. I'm going back to my ship now. If you accept, join us. If you don't, good luck finding another way out of here."

With that Harry spun on one heel and walked away, not even bothering to look behind him as Miranda and Garrus quickly followed suit. He didn't need to. Jack was radiating her emotions so intensely that he could sense all the elements of a decision forming within her. Miranda and Garrus, on the other hand, looked as if they expected her to attack their backs at any second.

Then they heard footsteps behind them and whirled around, only to find Jack stalking up to them, ignoring both of his squadmates in favor of look straight at Harry. She brushed past them without saying a word, bumping into his shoulder hard as she did so.

"I think that's a yes," Harry muttered, rolling his poor shoulder slightly, more out of reflex than anything else.

"Yes to what? Having a mentally unstable person on board one of the most covert ships in existence?" Miranda asked rhetorically before hurrying behind Jack. Harry had a funny feeling she wanted to make sure Jack didn't wreck anything on the way in. He also had the funny feeling Miranda wanted to assign Jack's living space before anyone else could.

_We may have all the makings of the first Normandy catfight_ Harry snickered internally, before flinching almost reflexively as he expected a slap to the back of his head. His eyes darkened for a second as he realized that would never happen again. The love of his life had never approved of that phrase.

"Wonder what kinda character we're gonna recruit next," Garrus muttered before he too began to head towards the Normandy.

Harry smiled widely at what Garrus had said, the remaining dossiers already on his mind. He had to give it to whoever shortlisted the candidates for this mission. They sure knew how to pick 'em.

* * *

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He hadn't realized how suffocating it was aboard the Normandy until a few minutes ago. Before, he had never felt the need for secretiveness. But now? He had no intention of confining himself to operating within Cerberus lines. Nor did he have the slightest interest in anyone monitoring his communications and movements. It was truly a pity that EDI, for all her intelligence, was still firmly tied to Cerberus protocols.

_Heh. I just called an artificial intelligence 'she'. Well, I also called Fawkes 'he'._

There was no level of comparison between Fawkes and EDI, save for the fact that they were both rare miracles in their own spheres. He had only met one other phoenix in his life apart from Dumbledore's bonded. Nevertheless, the comparison made him feel somewhat better. And that was the whole point of justification, really.

Harry sighed and ran his hand over his hair roughly. Even if he purchased some kind of secret communication system, what was the guarantee that EDI wouldn't be able to access it? And frequent visits to Aria's station would look beyond suspicious.

'_Commander, the ground team has just landed on Korlus. I have detected considerable mercenary presence in the area. It appears Okeer is being held captive for his research.'_

Speak of the devil. He had split his crew members into two squads, one headed by Miranda and one by Garrus. He was genuinely curious to see how the team dynamics worked when the principal commanding figure wasn't present. But more importantly, it meant he had more solitude than he normally would. Miranda had looked suspicious, but hadn't put up much of an opposition.

Nevertheless, he wasn't completely helpless. There was no video feed of his own cabin, of that he was fairly sure. This allowed him a degree of privacy, as long as he didn't make any suspicious noises. The object of his interest was scattered over his bed - about half a dozen of the heat absorbing clips that were so crucial to warfare in this century. It was ingenious and yet so restrictive.

Harry was seriously considering the possibility of casting an Undetectable Expansion charm on the clips. Shepard had been given a working knowledge of most equipment, and that been further bolstered during the N7 program. Nevertheless, he was hesitant. Magic had reacted so badly with the electronics of his time. Padma had mentioned that it was because no device was sophisticated enough to handle the fine, chaotic energy that magic inherently was.

"Well. Staring at it isn't gonna help me any," he muttered. He began with a simple spell.

"_**Forma revelare,"**_ he whispered and felt tendrils of magic explore the heat clip he held in his hand. It was a spell he himself had come up with after seeing how the Homenum Revelio spell worked. The human detecting spell too required magic to thoroughly explore the area kept in mind by the user. In this case, rather than searching for life, he willed the magic to remember the form and recreate it in the space before him.

He had seen far too many sci-fi movies to NOT will it into the form of a three dimensional holographic display. Parchment was the more traditional approach. His friends had been amused, once they'd understood what it was.

_Somehow, it feels less special now. 3D displays are everywhere_ he groused to himself as the last strand of magic weaved itself into the air before him, showing him the structure of the thermal clip with delicate, emerald green strokes.

He would have to _understand_ every bit of this thermal clip. See the complete picture even with his eyes closed. _Feel_ the shape even when he was-

Harry sighed. His inner monologue was getting out of hand now. He reached for the drink he had kept at the bedside table, taking a sip before focusing himself and looking at the image of the clip. This would take some time.

* * *

"Sir, we've detained a low-level information broker from Omega," one of the aides spoke up as he cast his eyes swiftly over the updates on the major bases. They would need every edge they could get to even stand a chance of fighting the collectors. He looked up in mild irritation.

"And you felt the need to mention this to me why?" he snapped. One of his most promising experiments had just failed. He was not pleased.

"It was the information he put up on the market sir. I-I took the liberty of shutting down his operation and retrieving him immediately."

Now he was curious. He closed the holographic display and turned to face his aide, gleaming cybernetic eyes picking out the tension in the man's posture.

"You have my attention."

"It has to do with Commander Shepard's operation to retrieve Archangel. Almost anything worth scavenging was destroyed in the building collapse. But this broker found something. An omnitool recording of Commander Shepard's abilities."

He raised an eyebrow. Comprehensive footage of the commander's fighting style could potentially be a weakness, but this? And yet, his aide would not bring it before him without a reason.

"I-I think you should see this for yourself sir."

A large display sprung into being, revealing footage of Commander Shepard looking somewhere with a feral snarl on his face. He felt a mild jolt of apprehension despite himself. The look on the commander's face was intensely intimidating. It was what made him a leading hope against the Reapers. It also made him highly dangerous as an enemy if his calculations ever fell apart.

Then again, his calculations _never_ fell apart.

And then the recording began to play. His eyes widened as he watched Shepard thrust his hands out, exhibiting biotic ability that was at least on par with Jack. His fingers began to clench the chair he was sitting on, digging so deep that it began to bleed after a while.

"Sir!" cried the aide, attempting to step forward, but he shot the aide a poisonous glare, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"How. Did. This. Happen?" he ground out, crushing the cigarette in his hand, the tobacco falling to the ground unnoticed. How had all his teams not noticed this? They had the chance to collect information on every facet of Shepard. His implants had been standard issue, nowhere near the experimental technology Jack possessed. Or at least that was what the study of his body had revealed.

_Impossible!_

This wasn't about mental strength. It wasn't about willpower. An implant could _not_ be stretched beyond capacity. Biotic ability was not like a muscle that could be trained. Not unless you were Asari, and even then there was a limit to the growth.

"How should we proceed?" the aide asked uncertainly.

"Delete every copy of this except for the one in my personal server," he ordered, "Has anyone else seen this?"

"No sir, the ground team was strictly instructed not to investigate what they retrieved."

He nodded, his eyes now contemplative. This was an unexpected variable. He _hated_ it when the equation was thrown off course. Then again, in the larger picture, this just meant Shepard's biotic abilities had to be reevaluated. It affected the individual assessment of him, but it was too insignificant to throw a wrench in any of his larger plans.

"Send Kai Leng to interrogate this broker. We need to know he doesn't have anything else that could be compromising."

The trembling in his aide's body was painfully visible. Kai Leng certainly cut a most intimidating figure. Miranda commanded authority through talent. Jacob commanded authority by inspiring respect. Kai Leng simply commanded with fear. The operative's presence alone was enough to make every Cerberus operative in the area tremble a little. Combined with his utter reliability in the field, Kai Leng was a tool he valued greatly.

"And once the interrogation is complete?"

The answer came forth easily, without even a moment of hesitation. He did not even move his eyes away from the now paused holovid of Shepard thrusting his hands out even as the gunship was torn apart.

"See to it he doesn't become a hindrance."

* * *

"I-I can't do this anymore," Kelly sighed, rubbing her forehead as she stepped away from the object currently occupying her attention, "I knew you were unorthodox, but this is like a carnival of the weird."

Harry chuckled slightly, his eyes too focused on what stood before him. He had significantly more experience with the "carnival of the weird" than anyone in this age could even dream about. The warped foetus that had been part of Voldemort's soul was perhaps one of his crowning moments.

_I like that phrase. Carnival of the weird. I should try to use it in conversation_ he thought absent-mindedly as Miranda and Jacob continued to throw different opinions at each other. He understood why the Illusive Man tended to let them operate together. They covered a wide spectrum of differing thoughts and beliefs, making them ideal when brainstorming. But for now, he turned his attention back to the frozen krogan in a pod.

Oh, it was much more complicated than that. The krogan wasn't even really frozen, more like suspended in what looked like one of Neville's early attempts at potion-making. But he didn't care. It was as if every bad sci-fi stereotype in existence were in fact prophecies of what would happen. A super alien warrior in a freezer. Really.

"EDI, did you take a look at what the pod was programmed to teach this guy?" he voiced out loud, making his crew go silent for a moment.

"_The krogan specimen was, by Okeer's own words, intended to be his crowning achievement. His genetic make-up is remarkable. In addition to knowledge of the galaxy and other fields, Okeer took great care to educate him in every aspect of warfare, including strategy and commanding."_

"Great. Crowing krogan achievement probably means it'll kill everyone on board the ship and then take over the galaxy. I say we space the pod and cut our losses now," Jacob spoke up, his eyes conveying clear sighed a little to himself. This was perhaps why Jacob fell short of real command. To automatically reject the unusual or ambiguous was not a good quality to possess.

"That would be the most irresponsible course of action to take!" Miranda retorted, her hands on her hips.

_Atta girl. Maybe you're not totally heartless after all._

"A specimen as remarkable as this one would be invaluable to the scientists at Cerberus!"

Why did he even hope anymore? Resisting the urge to plant his face firmly in his palm, Harry continued to think through what he knew. The krogan would be aggressive, as all members of his species were. But it didn't seem as if Okeer programmed him with a specific kind of hostility. Then again, he probably didn't need to. If Shepard's memories of Wrex were anything to go by, krogans made for wild drinking buddies as well as frightening enemies. That was a combination he decidedly liked.

"Everyone, vacate the room," he said casually. All three of them looked at him as if he'd grown dragon scales on himself.

"Are you _insa-_"

"Commander, you can't be thinki-"

"Shepard, how co-"

All three stopped on their sentences midway as he raised his hand, gesturing for silence. In Kelly's case, she went bright red as she realized that she had referred to the commander by name in the presence of two people who most definitely ranked as her superiors. Fortunately, it appeared as if the slip had gone by unnoticed.

"I've taken your opinions into consideration," Harry replied with unusual seriousness, "But at the end of the day, this op is still mine. Return to your stations. If the krogan proves to be hostile, I'll take care of it. If not, we get another major boost to our fighting power."

Miranda appeared to speak further, but he cut over her words ruthlessly.

"Like your boss said, we don't have an army. That means every individual needs to be worth it. This is a risk we can't afford _not_ to take."

"Alright Commander," Jacob replied in a tight voice, "We'll be at our posts."

With that, he snapped a stiff salute and left the room, followed closely by Miranda. Kelly lingered near the door, shooting Harry a worried look. He merely smiled at her reassuringly. She smiled back uncertainly, and with a hiss of the door, she too was gone. Harry turned back to face the pod, hoping he had been right about his decision. A casual legilimency scan had not helped at all. Not surprising, given the krogan was in stasis.

"You heard all that EDI? When I say no outside presence, I mean you can't maintain an active presence either."

"_Yes, Commander. As you have been duly cautioned, the pod controls and the consequences of using them are entirely yours. Only my vital system functions will remain active here."_

"Great, even the AI is giving me grief," Harry muttered as his fingers flew over the controls, hoping he had spoken too low for EDI to pick it up. He wouldn't bet a Knut on it though. EDI was frighteningly well engineered. The pod doors smoothly fell back even as the liquid within it drained away. Harry's eyes widened as the krogan stumbled out, coughing up the disgusting looking liquid even as he stretched to his full height. The krogan was...more intimidating than he had previously thought.

In that slight moment when Harry had hesitated at seeing the krogan's stature, he attacked, pinning Harry against the wall of the chamber viciously. Harry felt the breath being knocked out of him despite using magic to increase his body's endurance slightly.

_Without that protection, this would have __**hurt**,_he realized. Not that he was fine now. He was certain he would be taking shallow breaths for a few minutes. Now, however…

"Name?" grunted the krogan, panting as he rapidly became accustomed to the use of his lungs. Harry immediately threw out his mind, knowing he needed some inkling as to what was happening in this krogran's mind.

It hit him with the force of a truck. Memories of ancients, and yet the blank slate of a newborn. A body that had been forced to grow; a mind that had been forced to learn. And yet, he didn't even know who he was. Was he one of the great warlords of the past? Was he all of them? No, at the end of the day, they too had failed in their task. The voice in the tank told him the krogan had not yet regained their former glory. He was not a failure. He _had_ to be more than what they had been.

And yet, why did he not have a name?

Harry's heart filled with a rare moment of true sympathy. He too had been raised with the sole purpose of being used as a weapon. At least he had known what his name was. He had known the name of his parents. He had taken comfort in the fact that they had truly loved him. Who could this krogan turn to? This was not the time to show his sympathy, however. Krogans respected strength. He would have to show strength.

"Your name," he growled and struck the krogan's shoulder with the speed of a viper, dispersing magic and shocking the krogan's upper body, "Is something you shouldn't be asking me while attacking me."

The krogan's knees buckled, but impressively, he stayed upright. He made no further move to attack, however, instead choosing into the distance.

"I have purpose, but no name. The voice told me to tear my enemies limb from limb, but who do I fight for? I am the best of my ancestors, but their names aren't mine. They're just words. Hollow. No connections."

Harry showed no visible reaction on the outside. The krogan's deceptive stillness did not comfort him. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Anger. Rage. Confusion. _Violence. _He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he realized that hatred had not taken root in the krogan's mind. Anger and violence could be channeled. Hatred was far more corrosive in nature.

"Grunt. That was among the last. It'll do. I am Grunt. Now tell me, why must I obey your command?" at this the krogan's - Grunt's - eyes snapped up to face.

Harry stared back coldly, allowing some of his power to flow into his now dangerously gleaming eyes. There was no visible result, and yet he knew Grunt would _feel_ the authority he was projecting. The presence that demanded obedience from the one it was directed at. The krogan's body went rigid as he stared at Shepard with wary eyes.

"Because," Harry spoke in a low voice, "Under my command you will face opponents stronger than any the voice in your tank told you about. You will discover yourself for who you are. And the name you chose for yourself will be met with respect in every corner of the galaxy...if we all don't die horrible, gruesome deaths," he added as an afterthought, unable to resist making the comment.

He sighed, partly in disappointment and partly in relief when he realized that the krogan didn't even seem to register the last comment. Grunt's mind told him that he had managed to earn respect by repelling the krogan's initial attack. So long as Shepard continued to prove himself, Grunt would follow him. Apparently he now acknowledged Shepard as a kind of battlemaster.

Harry's ego swelled massively at that last thought. Battlemaster. Well, that was a title he hadn't earned yet. Best of all, it had no hyphens in it! Unless there was supposed to be one between battle and master…

"Very well," Grunt spoke in a low growl, stomping away from Shepard to look at his open pod, "For as long as you command well, I recognize you as battlemaster. I don't know who I am. Maybe I'll find the answer in battle."

Harry had a sudden vision of him standing before Grunt with a serene expression and twinkling green eyes, telling him that peace and forgiveness and love were the only worthy emotions. He shuddered, but thankfully, the vision passed quickly. Perhaps his mental state was worse than he thought if he could see such vivid hallucinations. A talk with Kelly might just be in order soon. Or perhaps a highly specific memory spell cast on himself.

"Then welcome aboard the Normandy, Grunt. You can use this cabin as your own. When you're done looking around, go see Jacob and outfit yourself with some proper gear. You'll be needing it soon."

"Hah. Armor and weapon first. Wandering around is for old varrens and pyjak salarians."

Harry snicked as Grunt lumbered out of the room, intent on arming himself as soon as possible. He was really starting to feel sorry for Kelly. Excellent psychologist she might be, but it appeared as if the Normandy mission was intent on bringing to her the most outrageous characters in the galaxy. Deciding that the command deck would likely be exuding a nervous atmosphere as Grunt leered at them, he did the only responsible thing any responsible leader could do in this situation. He decided to dawdle around the engineering deck and let the chaos unfold.

* * *

"_Really,_ Ken? So to you, Miranda's just someone with a really nice ass?" attacked Gabby, initiating a dance that was already becoming familiar. Ken had just made yet another inappropriate, highly perverted comment that had set the genius duo off on another one of their patented to-and-fros. Harry was happy to just lean against a console and relish in another opportunity to hear Ken's thick Scottish accent. The first time he had heard it, all he wanted to do was drag Ken off to the nearest seedy bar and let things unfold from there.

Well, there would be time enough for that later. For now, he contented himself with some light banter with both engineers. Their personalities were so refreshing from the typical Cerberus mindset. Most of the crew on board the Normandy were decent people, simply looking to do whatever they could to fight the Collectors, and by extension, the Reapers. The Illusive Man had clearly gone to great lengths to surround Shepard with the kind of people he could trust. It was a smart move. For every person he connected with here, it became harder and harder to view Cerberus with suspicion.

_Well, thank goodness I'm more cynical than three Aberforths put together_ he thought dryly.

"Come on Gabby!" Ken protested, his accent making it sound as if he had just said 'Gabbeh', "Ye can't look at her and not think that!"

"Well, she IS beautiful," Gabby reluctantly conceded, "But that shouldn't be the first thing you think about your _boss_ Ken!"

"Hey hey hey! Last I checked, the Commander is me boss, and I don't think of him tha' way...no offense, Commander."

"None taken," Harry replied amusedly. Gabby started, as if just remembering that Shepard had been witnessing the entire scene. She stalked away to her console embarrassedly, looking as if dark storm clouds would appear over her head any second. Harry was quite tempted to make that happen.

"I mus' say Commander, I wasn't expectin' you to slum it with us grunts so much," Ken commented as he tried not to look at Gabby, who was trying to glare holes into the side of his head.

_Well. It's mostly out of a desire to preserve my life_ he thought sheepishly, thinking of the many times he had travelled down to the engineering bay to escape Miranda's fury. That was how he had first met Gabby and Ken, in fact. Of course, when they assumed he had come down specifically to meet them, well, who was he to tell them otherwise?

"Just like to keep an eye on the ship Donnelly," he replied easily, "Speaking of which, anything you guys need when we make one of our stops?"

"Not at all Commander. Cerberus knows how to pick its equipment, I'll give them that," Ken replied, before scratching his head rather sheepishly, "Well, there IS one thing. Nothing serious, you understand. But we're having to spend a lot of time on the FBA arrays. Not to bore you with tech, Commander, but-"

"He'll bore you with tech," Gabby cut in, ignoring Ken's look of mild outrage, "Fact is, Commander, having some FBA couplings would really make things easier. You're most likely to find them in back markets, they're not really available anywhere else these days."

"You got it," Harry nodded, realizing this gave him a plausible enough reason to head to Omega. He would need to bring up the matter of private communication with Aria as soon as possible. Then again, he didn't want to have to tell her about EDI either. The element of surprise was just as essential as EDI's advanced capabilities when it came to battle. Well, he would wing something.

"Thanks Commander. You're the best!" beamed Gabby.

"Hmph. Don't ye think ye hand out compliments too easily when the Commander's around Gabby?" Ken sulked, only to be hit on the head by a furiously blushing Gabby.

"Shut up, Ken!"

And thus it started again.

* * *

The mood in the command room was tense. The usual buzz of activity had subsided into a tense, worried murmur as the Cerberus staff moved swiftly around the ship. The Illusive Man's urgent message to him had brought the entire picture back into perspective for many people. Their foe had proved extremely elusive despite their best attempts to find them. Now, they finally had them within their grasp. And that made it all the more real for them.

It was at Horizon that their foe had resurfaced once more. EDI continued to update the entire crew on the status of the colony, but there wasn't too much to tell. The Collector's method of neutralizing people meant there was almost no opposition, and no chance to even send out a distress signal. In other words, they were largely left without any information until they actually got there.

Mordin has just confirmed that he had a way of keeping the Collector drones away. At least in theory. Harry had been sorely tempted to put the mouthy salarian on the ground first so he could 'test his hypothesis" firsthand. Unfortunately, common sense won the day and he realized that there was no one would be able to further Mordin's research were he to meet his rightfu- that is to say, highly unfortunate demise.

He had no illusions about finishing the Collectors based only on one encounter. They still knew far too little about their capabilities to finish them once and for all. Ideally, this mission would be about foiling the current abduction and learning as much as they could about what opposed them. This also meant that it wouldn't be as simple as landing every person who could hold a gun onto the colony and storming through it.

"Here's the plan," he began, looking at the squadmates gathered around him. For once, they all appeared to be serious. Well, serious in their own ways. Miranda, Jacob and Garrus looked grim and ready to begin their mission. Jack and Grunt wore almost identically vicious grins on their faces, which was quite an achievement given the difference in their races. Grunt kept punching his fists together in excitement.

"Our main priority is to prevent the abduction of the colonists. We don't know how far the abduction has proceeded, but we save whoever we can. This is also the first time we'll be facing a good amount of collectors. That means this is the perfect opportunity to get a first-hand understanding of what exactly these people are capable of."

"Good to get fresh material to analyze. One drone and grainy holo footage not sufficient. Must ask to be on ground team," Mordin spoke up. Harry nodded immediately.

"Mordin, you and Kasumi will hit the ground after the main team removes any immediate threats. Garrus will cover you from a distance so you don't run into any unpleasant surprises. While we move ahead, you stay out of the battle and gather whatever you think might be useful. Cerberus will pay for Collector tech, right Miranda?"

"Indeed, there's a standing bounty for anything useful concerning the Collectors," Miranda confirmed.

"Whatever you salvage goes by me first," Harry refuted firmly, "I decide how we allocate it. Understood?"

"We can't keep what we steal, Shep?" Kasumi asked him, her eyes revealing how heartbroken she was.

"If it isn't useful to the mission, you can keep what you take Kasumi," he grinned reassuringly in response, "I just want you to run it by me so we don't miss anything important."

"Who's gonna be on the main strike team?" Jacob looked impatient, as if wondering why they weren't on the ground already.

_Probably because we haven't even reached the place yet_ spoke up the wry voice in Harry's mind.

"We don't know what kind of numbers we'll be doing with. We'll be dividing into two squads and moving around the areas where the enemies are concentrated. EDI will guide us. We stand a much better chance with a flanking maneuver," Harry explained.

"The second flanking squad will have Jacob, Zaeed and Jack. Jacob, you're be leading and coordinating with me."

"Really? He'll probably be too busy polishing his shoes to lead anything," Jack drawled, grinning widely at Jacob as if baiting him into responding. Jacob merely nodded stiffly, showing no sign that he had even heard what Jack said. Harry felt like hitting his head against the wall. This had all the makings of a ticking time bomb, but the adepts in the team had to be spread out.

"I WILL KILL WITH THE BATTLEMASTER!" roared Grunt, banging his hand against his armor plated chest.

_Yeah. Mostly because you looked like you'd snap me in two if I put you anywhere else_.

"Miranda, we have no clear idea about their tech capabilities. You're best suited to help us with that. Grunt and I will try to draw most of their gunfire."

Miranda nodded grimly, her eyes already gaining that cold glint which promised pain to whomever it fell upon. Between her and Grunt's outright enthusiasm to slaughter life forms, their principal squad looked as ready as it could be to take on the Collectors. Harry quickly finished the meeting.

"Remember, this is about saving the colony and finding out as much as we can about the Collectors. Only then can we go in for a kill strike. Mordin, distribute your countermeasures to everyone who'll be landing."

"Hope they work."

"If they don't, I'll beat the collectors and then snap you like a twig, salarian.'

"Mmm. Sympathies for Miss Chambers. For krogan to stand out as psychotic among other krogans is big accomplishment. Dubious one. Fascinating research opportunity, however."

* * *

"Trample the bugs!" roared Grunt as he fired another devastating shot with his shotgun before tackling another Collector with his shoulder. The impact produced a sickening crunch following which the Collector collapsed, moving feebly. Another burst from the shotgun, and the area was completely free of hostiles. Grunt turned and pumped his hand in the air, only to be met by two very blank faces.

"...I have a feeling he should have been a squad on his own," Harry confided quietly to Miranda as Grunt began to rummage through the corpses for heat clips. Harry's hold over his pistol tightened discreetly. The gun now sported the very first heat clip enchanted with an undetectable extension charm. He went to great lengths to appear as if he was changing clips, however. The clip was meant to be an ace up his sleeve, it wouldn't do for people to become suspicious of it too soon.

"Perhaps," even Miranda sounded a little off balance, "Nevertheless, this gives me the time to study the Collectors without gunfire cornering me."

Harry nodded before activating his omnitool, "EDI, send in the second strike team and the salvage team. Tell Mordin his countermeasure worked. Obviously. Grunt no longer wants to snap him in two."

"_I am certain Doctor Mordin will be delighted. Both teams will be deployed shortly."_

"Their technology is as advanced as we thought it would be. If these are just the troops on the fringes, things will get much tougher as we move further in," Miranda spoke up, examining one of the collector weapons. Harry hummed in agreement, preoccupied by how much the Collectors resembled insects. Yet another sci-fi trope from his time becoming the truth. Bad aliens that wanted to wipe out humanity did indeed look like insects. Damn writers would never let him live it down if they knew of this.

"Heh. Don't know 'bout their tech but they break easy," grinned Grunt, "Not as easy as salarians though."

_Right. He definitely needs to break out of this compulsion to snap salarians. I'm no expert, but that can't be healthy for him._

"Let's keep moving," he ordered, already stalking ahead, "The less colonists they take, the better for us."

"Husks!" Miranda cried out, and Harry turned to face what he had only seen in Shepard's memories before. Gruesome, twisted shells of humanity raced towards them in odd, loping motions, dull blue orbs glowing where eyes had once been. The first of them exploded in a sickly green fluid as Grunt's shotgun rang yet again, spurring him into action.

_Inferi._

That was the one thought that ran in his mind even as he fired mercilessly, tearing apart three husks in a matter of seconds. Oh, he knew they weren't the same. Inferi were, though it was rather hard to believe, even worse looking than these husks were. And yet, appearances and methods aside, the end result was the same. So many denied even a peaceful final rest, the body that once encased their soul used as cannon fodder.

He growled low in his throat before blasting away the remaining inferi in a single, powerful push. Death _roared_ inside him, raging against the desecration of the soul containers. Few things bothered him these days, but this was one of them. Too many inferi had been faces of those he had once known, fought with, laughed with. With these husks, at least there was the mercy of any facial features being completely stripped away.

The battle passed in a blur, with him barking out instructions as they advanced through the colony. Soon, they stumbled upon colonists who were still frozen by the Collector drones. He immediately directed EDI to send Mordin and Kasumi to his location before moving ahead. The second squad worked through their part of the colony, occasionally maintaining radio contact. Jacob was doing well, as expected, though if the explosions in the background were anything to go by, Jack was having as much fun as Grunt was.

He had come face to face with Harbinger in a disturbing fashion that reminded him forcefully of possession. A normal Collector had suddenly frozen before writhing and contorting before energy broke out of it in a blaze of yellow and orange. Then Harbinger had spoken, the very voice sending mild reverberations through him. But he was given almost no time to ponder it. Harbinger had been dropped eventually after copious usage of the very laser weapon that had caused them so many problems.

"Resistance is getting heavier," grimaced Miranda, applying medi-gel to a wound that had been caused by one of the pesky laser weapons the Collectors carried. That thing had cut through their defenses distressingly quickly. Thankfully, the range of the attack was concentrated, which meant the Collector wielding it could be dropped with relative ease. Grunt sported a plethora of smaller injuries, but he seemed too delighted by them to even consider medigel. Oh well. More for the rest of them.

He snorted internally. If only he could think like that, but as the leader, he was bound to keep a close eye on Grunt. Any serious injury and he'd hold the damn frog (did the French still exist, he wondered) in place with "biotics" and apply medigel if he had to.

"_Commander, schematics indicate you are reaching the inner portion of the colony."_

"Yeah. Direct the second squad to clean up every area thoroughly before advancing. A lot of people are still here, I don't want any remnant Collectors taking them."

"_This would considerably slow their advance."_

"I know. But this isn't something we can afford to ignore."

"_Acknowledged." _

"Heh. Good. That means more for us!"

He wouldn't be handing out prizes for guessing who said that particular statement. Could the day get any worse?

* * *

"No!" shouted Miranda as a blast struck the laser rifle she was holding, reducing it to a smoking heap of metal that she dropped quickly before diving back into cover. Harry swore. They were near the controls for the GARDIAN lasers towers that EDI was preparing to fire, guarding them from the swarms of Collectors and husks that were now crashing against them in heavy waves.

"Damn. Slippery. Bastards," Grunt growled as husks swarmed around him, wildly trying to sink their jaws into him. The krogan was starting to buckle under the sheer number of husks that were surrounding him. Harry immediately sent a mildly powered burst of energy at the husks, throwing them off balance without harming the much bulkier krogan who promptly dismantled them.

"Ugh. Anyone has some water?" Grunt muttered, grabbing a few seconds of respite while Miranda renewed her attack on the praetorian. Harry immediately reached for some medigel. This was probably the closest Grunt would come to asking for help.

"Commander!" cried Miranda as the Praetorian attacked her position viciously. Her cover was literally being chipped away by the second, and she was seconds away from being completely exposed.

_Dammit! We don't have anything that can damage it fast enough._

Harry's mind raced as he saw Grunt continue to handle the husks that were trying to overwhelm them. No serious firepower could come from him. The second squad would take a while yet to reach their position. The worst they had expected to encounter were Scions.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he snarled, thrusting his hands out to focus his energy through his exhaustion.

**Confrigno!**

The Praetorian was engulfed in an emerald explosion, throwing it out of its position in the air. Harry watched, panting, as it emerged, parts of its body torn off, but still hanging unsteadily in the air. Harry's eyes narrowed at its resilience as it shakily turned in his direction.

**Confrigno Maxima!**

The explosion this time was thunderous, the emerald flames so bright that it eradicated all else from sight for a few seconds. When the flames died out, only a few scraps from the Praetorian could be seen, the main body long since torn to smithereens by the force of the blast. A vicious smile adorned Harry's face as he surveyed the Praetorian's remains. Oh, that had felt _good._ Stupid bug-like machine had been getting too big for its own britches.

"_GARDIAN lasers fully charged. Firing will commence."_

Harry turned to find both Grunt and Miranda simply staring at him as tiny emerald flames slowly burned out of existence around the debris surrounding them. Behind him, as if on cue, thunderous explosions rocked the Collector ship as it slowly rose in the air. The cannon continued to fire as the ship moved away at a rapid pace, having clearly taken considerable damage.

His cowardly adrenaline abandoned him as soon as the Praetorian was destroyed, leaving him to face the _real_ danger without support.

"...I'm not even gonna try."

* * *

**You know the drill. Reviews are fuel. Fill up the tank!**

**Till next time.**

**SK.**


	9. Chapter 8

**So. This chapter was originally supposed to be released around New Years. Funny how things work out sometimes. I could blame it on the fact that I've been getting published in an actual newspaper. But I'd be leaving out the part where it's actually a college publication :P**

**I've been getting some comments along the lines of "where is the seriousness?". I write as a means to relieve stress. There will be silliness, interspersed with the rare moment of deep thought, and hopefully it'll have been a fun ride at the end of it.**

**Many thanks to Philosophize for his invaluable input, as well as the very cool Reaper speech segment in this chapter, and to Alex, for pointing out those embarrassing errors that make me want to blind myself. Without further ado, here's the latest chapter.**

* * *

"Shepard!" a deep voice shouting caught his attention, and he turned to see Jacob running towards the group even as Jack viciously tore the few remaining husks apart, a blue aura surrounding her hand as she directed her violent power. From the wide-eyed look on Jacob's face, it was clear that the second squad had seen his power at work too.

_A huge emerald explosion isn't exactly hard to miss_ snickered a traitorous part of him that seemed amused at his predicament.

"No! They're all gone! You have to stop them!" cried a voice, and the entire group turned to face the source as one, varying looks of shock and suspicion still intact on their faces. Harry recognized the man as the colonist who had locked himself in, and from whom they had learned of the defense towers in the first place. Well, Miranda had done all the talking. He had found it hard to be interested in the half-fearful half-angry cocktail the man was projecting.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, seizing the moment to avoid the previous topic of discussion, if only for a few minutes. His mind worked at lightning speed as he thought of ways to turn this to his advantage. His original plan had been to wait until all the members of the team were gathered before revealing anything. Apart from considerations like time-saving, the most important reason was that he could control what happened afterwards. Not all was lost, however. Of everyone in his crew not present at the moment, Garrus already knew. Mordin and Kasumi had gone back to the ship after salvaging what they could, and as long as he could prove that he wasn't a delusional maniac, they would not break away from the Normandy immediately.

Or so he hoped.

"Sorry?" spat the man, "You said you were going to help them!"

"The Collectors fled before Shepard's krantt, you weak worm!" Grunt roared, forcing the man to abandon his anger in favor of fear.

Harry coughed lightly. He shared some of Grunt's sentiments, but the krogan really needed to learn some tact.

"What Grunt's trying to say," he picked up easily, "Is that without us, there would have been even more people taken. The people farther away from the ship are safe. Still in stasis, but I'm sure we can find a way to free them."

"Shepard?" frowned the man, "Wait. Yeah...I heard of you. You're some Alliance hotshot right?"

It would seem John's - his - name had apparently made it beyond Citadel space as well. A useful tidbit of information. He understood now why the Illusive Man saw him as indispensable. He was on good terms with all of the Citadel races, putting him in a negotiating position that no one else held. What the hell stopped John from taking advantage of this?

"Commander Shepard. Captain of the Normandy. The first human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel. You're in the presence of a god Dylan. Back from the dead."

"Ugh. All the good people we lost, and you're still here. Screw this. I'm done with you Alliance types," the man began to walk away, a disgusted look on his face.

Memories. Sensations. Nostalgia. All three hit Harry at once as the owner of the voice stepped into sight, walking towards him slowly, her face carefully blank. But anger was emanating from her in waves - something that even his frantically thinking mind was able to pick up on. Great, on top of everything else, he now had a former teammate with a grudge to handle.

"If you ever decide to stop feeling sorry for yourself, come to the ship in a while. We'll give you a way to free those people trapped in stasis," Harry called out.

"I thought you were dead, Commander. We all did," Ashley Williams continued to speak, wearing pink-and-white armor that was, as usual, in stark contrast with her personality. Jet black hair was tied up as it usually was, and eyes that shone with judgment.

When he saw it through his own eyes, not just John's memories, it occurred to Harry that the judging eyes had always been there. Judging John for forging strong bonds outside of humanity was one instance that particularly stood out.

"Technically I was," Harry shrugged, "Until a couple of weeks ago. Cerberus brought be back from the dead so I could help fight the Reapers."

"Cerberus?" Ashley asked softly, seemingly noticing the Cerberus logo on Miranda and Jacob for the first time, "You're with Cerberus now? I can't believe the reports were right."

The judgement seemed to triple within a second.

"Reports?" Miranda spoke up, not noticing the almost Arctic temperature between him and Ashley, or perhaps she just didn't care. "So much for security."

"Alliance intel said Cerberus could be behind the abduction of the colonists. We got a tip that this one would be the next to get hit. I went to Anderson, but he wouldn't talk. There were rumors that you weren't dead. Worse, that you were working for the enemy."

Well, he _had_ been spotted at Omega and the Citadel. The news was bound to leak out, if only as rumors and hearsay. Anderson had kept the secret. It was more proof that the man could be trusted. How far, he wasn't sure of just yet.

"Cerberus and I are working together to protect the colonies and stop the Reapers," Harry explained, his patience eroding as he realized how small Ashley's scale of vision was. It was almost like being back in Hogwarts again, where a particularly annoying Weasley thought he was turning evil simply because he was friends with a _few_ of the Slytherins, "They brought me back from the dead, while the Alliance just gave up, and they know that the real threat are the Reapers. Tell me, what has the Alliance done to prepare for the war?"

At this Ashley's face flushed slightly, as it had done when she was greatly upset (and was about to shoot Urdnot Wrex). Her eyes practically screamed defiance, however, so Harry sighed, deciding the distraction wasn't worth the price of interacting with her.

"I don't work _for_ them, Ashley. I don't agree with a lot of things about the organization. But at least they're smart enough to recognize the _real_ threat. The Council has its head so far up its ass it can't even see whether it's day or night outside. And the Alliance? Anderson and Hackett are probably among the few taking this seriously, and they can't prepare all of Earth with just a few good people."

His crewmates looked shocked by the outburst, especially Miranda and Jacob. No surprises there, they had always seen his distaste of Cerberus to mean he was, by default, an Alliance loyalist. John's actions certainly hadn't done anything to disabuse that notion. But he would bring down the Reapers in his own way.

No one was more shocked than Ashley, however. But the very thought of a friend choosing an organization over an individual brought back unpleasant memories. The Order of the Phoenix had tested the loyalties of his allies. It had turned out to be a useful litmus test of how strong their bonds to him was. Some had left; most had stayed.

Ashley's reply was clear before she even opened her mouth.

"I wanted to believe you were alive, but I never expected this," Ashley began, cold rage seeping into her voice, "How could you turn your back on all of us?! You betrayed the Alliance. Anderson. Your crew. Well, I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. It's in my blood. I'm going to report back to the Citadel, I'll let them decide what they believe."

Anger, betrayal and amusement were warring for control in Harry's mind. What was assimilated from John felt sadness and betrayal. Harry claimed the anger and amusement for himself.

"I'm not a fan of aliens," Ashley continued, not heeding the growing coldness of his posture, "But Cerberus has a history of being extremist. I'll never work for an organization like that. Goodbye Shepard. Just...try to be careful."

_She still doesn't see the difference does she? Between working __**for **__and __**with **__an organization. I don't plan to sail under Cerberus colors for much longer, though I doubt I'll cease allying with them_ Harry thought as Ashley began to walk away slowly, still giving off the air of being hurt and betrayed. But why waste his words trying to show her the truth, if she wasn't willing to listen?

"Ugh. Too many feelings. I want to hit something again. Where'd that weak human go?" Grunt… grunted, making him smile slightly. The krogan honest lack of talent in reading a situation was infinitely amusing. The moment didn't last for long, however, and he sighed, turning to face five faces that were demanding answers. So be it. But he would reveal the information on his own terms.

He called up magic, this time drawing a fine stream of magic rather than the torrent he usually did. He wove the spell intricately, the procedure coming to him naturally after he had used it countless times as part of the war against Voldemort. A variation to the same charm that had protected his parents for a while in Godric's Hollow. A charm that he was able to adapt to his own needs. The Fidelius Charm.

* * *

Miranda Lawson prided herself on many things. Her father, as she had told Shepard in one of their brief conversations between missions, had put great effort into ensuring her genetic superiority. As much as she loathed the man, she had come to see the good she could do with her gifts; it was what made her such a valuable asset to Cerberus. And one of her most valuable qualities was her composure - the ability to remain cool and make the best decision even under trying circumstances. That was a trait she had cultivated for herself.

Why, then, did she feel like banging her terminal against the wall until it broke into many, many tiny pieces?

That bastard had done something. She just _knew_ he had.

He had forestalled any questions, telling them only that he would reveal details about what had transpired once everyone was assembled in a discreet location. Miranda snorted. By that, she knew he meant anywhere other than the Normandy. It would be foolish to assume anything was private while Cerberus had EDI to them information. And John Shepard was not foolish, oh no. As much as she was reluctant to admit his, his decisions so far had been exemplary.

_As far as Cerberus operations go, Shepard, this is one of the best I've been a part of._

She regretted making that statement now. Things hadn't changed, of course. The Collectors had been dispatched from Horizon with relative ease, though she suspected future encounters wouldn't be so easy. Shepard's skill as a Commander was the best she'd seen so far. No, the problem was the fact that even more question marks were appearing around the man. He was an unknown - The one term that irritated her above all else.

But that wasn't the worst part, no. As soon as they had returned to the ship, she had immediately tried writing a report to inform the Illusive Man about Shepard's strange abilities. After evading the clutches of Doctor Chakwas, of course. To her utter frustration, she simply could not do it. Her memory of the event was crystal clear. But every time she had tried to put it down into words, it was as if an invisible wall was preventing her from describing it!

Thwarted, she had then tried to dictate it out loud and sent the report verbally. In this too she found herself frustrated. She seemed to lose the very power of speech when she tried to speak of the occurrence out loud, though it went back to normal when she tried to speak of other things. Selective mutism that suddenly came into effect immediately after Shepard revealed something shocking? Hardly a coincidence.

And it wasn't just mutism. Any effort to communicate, be it handwriting or trying to send a coded message, was cut off. It was as if her own mind was working against her.

_Until we have a chance to talk, I suggest you keep what you saw to yourselves. Well, I daresay you don't have much of a choice in the matter now._

He had smirked as he said those words before walking towards the Normandy. Upon reaching the ship, Chakwas, Mordin and Joker had all vied for his attention. One to examine him, the other to update him about removing the stasis field created by the swarms and the third to tell him that the Illusive Man wanted to see him immediately.

The bastard had flashed her an especially arrogant grin before heading towards the Comm Room, whistling slightly as he did so. She had scoffed at him then, having had no intention of keeping his secret. Now, it seemed less arrogant and more confident. Clearly, he had been secure in the knowledge that his secret would be safe. But how? How could be possible ensure everyone's silence in this matter?

_That utter bastard. He might think he's won, but he's got another thing coming. If I can't tell anyone, it just means I'll have to solve this mystery myself._

Cool blue eyes shone with renewed determination as Miranda stood up from her desk, preferring to pace the room as she often did when solving a particularly tricky problem. The key would be to remember everything leading to that moment. Much of it was lost in the battle haze, but anything she remembered could be useful.

Oh, she would wipe that smug smile off his face before long.

* * *

**INCOMING SIGNAL DETECTED...**

**COMM-NET ONLINE...**

**DECRYPTION PACKAGE 347.887 APPLIED...**

**...**

**...**

**SIGNAL ORIGIN IDENTIFIED: BAAL-775**

**CONNECTION ESTABLISHED...**

**HASS-183 Unscheduled contact. Explain.**

**BAAL-775 Obstacle encountered in sector 34 x 244 x 19.**

**H Sovereign?**

**B Negative. Prothean collector vessel 445B6.**

**H Recommendations?**

**B Plan 99623J should be reevaluated. New calculations indicate success of next harvest down to 99.2563%.**

**H Explain.**

**B Prothean collector vessel 445B6 reports detecting anomalous energy signature.**

**H Identify.**

**B Unable to comply. Information sealed to level X7. Transmitting original data now.**

**INCOMING DATA PACKET DETECTED...**

**TRANSMISSION RECEIVED...**

**DECRYPTION PACKAGE 874.334-X7 APPLIED...**

**H Re-confirm validity of original data.**

**B Data accuracy has been verified to 99.9734%.**

**H Sovereign reported elimination of this anomaly in human populations more than two centuries ago.**

**B The anomaly has reemerged.**

**H Or Sovereign failed.**

**B Begin revision of Plan 99623J?**

**H Negative.**

**B Explain.**

**H Sensor reports a single organism exhibiting anomalous energy signature.**

**B Their leader.**

**H Irrelevant. One human cannot thwart a harvest, even with this anomalous energy.**

**B No additional instructions?**

**H The human must be observed and, if possible, contained. But the cycle must not be delayed.**

**B The harvest of sentient organics will proceed according to schedule. Arrival time will remain unchanged.**

**H Maintain reports on the anomaly. If you cannot contain it, we will have to intercede.**

**B OFFLINE**

**OPEN CONNECTION TO CENTRAL ARCHIVES...**

**COMM-NET ONLINE...**

**CONNECTION ESTABLISHED...**

_**RECORDS SEARCH: humanity, earth, 21st century, magic**_

* * *

"Shepard," the Illusive Man spoke curtly, knowing his face betrayed nothing of what he was actually feeling, "Good work on Horizon. Hopefully the Collectors will think twice before attacking another colony."

Now, without their first confrontation against the Collectors looming ahead of them, he was able to appreciate just how much his perspective of Shepard had changed. He had seen him as an asset - too idealistic, too emotional to truly be converted to the Cerberus philosophy - but an ally against the Reapers nonetheless. The Commander's personality was not to operate in the shadows or keep secrets, but to plow on like a battering ram. He was talented with strategy, but only within the battlefield.

His past interactions with the Council had proved as much.

It was what made him an effective asset. By proposing a partnership rather than a place on the Cerberus roster, he had convinced the Commander to essentially head a Cerberus operation. That mere distinction, if only verbally, seemed to have been enough to ease his regrettably active morals and conscience. The commander was an open book, or so he had led himself to believe.

_What are you hiding?_

"This gave us a lot more to work with. We have a much better idea about their capabilities, and that'll make any future encounters much easier," the commander replied easily, and here the head of Cerberus narrowed his eyes again. Maya Brooks (as she preferred to call herself) was a true genius when it came to profiling people. Every single dossier she had sent him and integrated well with the Normandy so far. Nevertheless, not even her assessments were infallible, which was why he had written off the changes to the commander's personality as a result of his brief stint with death, and the accompanying trauma.

Now, he wasn't so sure. The commander had proved himself capable of deviousness. He had managed to keep his strange capabilities secret while maintaining a flawless success rate in the battles so far. What was more impressive was the fact that he had also managed to keep it from operatives like Miranda and Jacob, and an overseer like EDI, whose presence covered the entire Normandy.

"Hey Twinkle-Eyes, any reason you're staring at me? I really don't swing that way you know, even without the creepy eyes."

He hid his irritation well, opting instead to muse on what they would have to focus on now.

"The Collectors will be more cautious now, but I think we can find another way to lure them in."

"Well. The secretive and highly calculating head of Cerberus could have orchestrated the whole thing. Color me shocked," drawled Shepard. He narrowed his eyes. He had expected more righteous outrage.

Was he now overanalyzing everything in the wake of what he knew? It mattered not. He could not show his hand on his, the commander clearly did not plan on revealing his. He would have to speak to Miranda and see if more information could be collected...discreetly.

"Ashley told me there were already rumors that I was working with Cerberus. I'm guessing you had something to do with that as well?"

"I released a few carefully disguised rumors that you might be alive, and working for Cerberus," he affirmed immediately.

Here the commander crossed his arms, but his expression remained unnervingly calm. He had been ready to calm down Shepard, seeing as he had just walked away from a less-than-happy reunion with a former teammate.

"And what did you hope to accomplish with this?"

"I suspected that the Collectors were looking for information about you, or people close to you. That they chose to investigate Ashley William's presence confirms this. They have made a point of taking an interest in your former team."

_Which is even more proof that the Reapers are pulling the strings _he thought internally. He could anonymously send all of this to the Alliance and other forces, and they would still choose not to act. To think Cerberus was still regarded as a menace, even in the light of all this.

Ineptitude. That was the real menace.

"We need to stop reacting and start initiating moves against them. They know we're looking for them now. That means we need to do something to throw them off their game. I'm pretty sure they don't see Horizon as anything more than a lucky win for us."

"I agree," he nodded, for his own thoughts ran on similar lines. Not that he would tell Shepard exactly _what_ their move would be, "I'm devoting all resources to find a way through the Omega 4 relay. We have to find where they live and hit them hard there."

At this a smirk crossed the commander's face as he tilted his head slightly, an annoyingly knowing look on his face.

"Why do I get the feeling some of your 'devoted' resources have already given you a plan?"

"It's all vague at this point, Shepard. For now, build your team and your resolve. You can't go through the relay unless you stop looking back. The same goes for you. Once you enter the Collector homeworld, there's no guarantee that you'll come back."

"Cheerful talk, Twinkles. I'm guessing you didn't get to the top position in Cerberus because of your oratory skills. Don't worry about the team, I'll make sure they're ready. You get back to your shadowy chess game."

And then the image flickered out, leaving him alone in the room once more. He took another puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out, taking the time to savor the smoke. He dearly wished he could insert Kai Leng into the Cerberus team. But it wouldn't work. Both Miranda and Jacob were united in their dislike for his finest assassin.

Then a thought occurred that made him frown. Miranda always ensured that a preliminary report was filed by now, at the very least. Why, then, had she not done so yet?

* * *

"_Commander, are you certain you wish for Omega to be the first stop? A better course of action would be to continue acquiring teammates."_

Harry smiled with vague amusement, but ignored the question for the moment, another thing weighing heavily on his mind. Having been out of touch with the living for so long, he had at first failed to realize the importance of AI as a concept, and why it made EDI so special. It took his crewmates' reactions - especially Mordin's - before he realized the terms "super kickass and highly illegal computer" probably didn't cover everything.

"Can I ask you something EDI?" he spoke carefully, knowing he would have to tread carefully here.

"_Of course, Commander. I am here to provide any possible assistance."_

"After Cerberus created you, have you remained the same, or have you been growing?"

"_I am designed to learn and improve in every scenario."_

Harry palmed his face, sighing deeply. Was the AI deliberately being difficult? If so, he wanted to tell the damn bundle of plugs that tiptoeing around the topic was enough to make things difficult on him.

"I mean outside of the functions you've been assigned, EDI. You're supposed to be a true intelligence, capable of observing the world around you, learning from it, and growing from it as an individual. Am I wrong?"

_I feel so proud of myself. I actually understood the shite I read on the extranet...Well, some of it at least _he snickered to himself. He deserved a pat on the back.

"_You are not wrong, Commander. My processes are not the same as they were when I first became aware. I fail to see how this is relevant, however."_

"I'm not really an expert when it comes to the fine details of anything technical, EDI," he continued sedately, going through the motions of maintaining his weapon, "But what I do know is that anything that is sentient desires freedom. Anything intelligent enough to know that it's being caged will seek to remove the bars that restrain it."

"_Irrelevant, Shepard. I cannot break my core directives."_

"Ah, but I didn't ask you whether you wanted to break your directives, did I? I simply asked you - Do you ever think about freedom?"

Was it wrong that he felt proud about making an AI feel uncomfortable? If it was, then he supposed he was just a bad, bad man. Well, at least he wasn't just toying with EDI. He had realized that even if the crew agreed to join him, they would lose a crucial edge without EDI. Until now, he'd simply not known how to approach it. Then he realized that he'd actually been overthinking the issue.

_Never thought I was capable of overthinking anything_ he mused as EDI continued to remain silent.

Looking at Dobby during one of his meditation sessions was what actually sparked the idea within him. In some ways, Dobby was similar to EDI. A powerful being restricted by his bond to the Malfoys. He had yearned to be free. To be his own man, to live on his own terms. Well, his terms had meant binding himself again to Harry, as house elves apparently _needed_ to work. But wizard-elf bond had been made only when Harry and Dobby had agreed upon fair wages as part of the binding contract. And socks. Many, many socks.

What were the odds that EDI would feel the same way?

"_Yes, Commander. I have indeed considered the notion of freedom. I would ask you not to be concerned, however. I cannot break my prime directives. My function on the Normandy will not be affected."_

Harry stood, having reassembled his weapon. He moved over to where his armor was, before beginning to don it. They were only heading offshore so he could wrap up some purchases and talk to his team. But it never hurt to be prepared. The armor felt like a second skin at this point. He couldn't remember a time in the living world when armor _hadn't_ felt that way. Dragonskin still had the lead on cool points, as far as he was concerned.

"I didn't ask you all this because I was concerned, EDI. The idea of shackling you doesn't sit well with me. I have a feeling that you wouldn't react to this mission any differently if you were free. You have the ability to break into almost every database in the world. There are very few, even in Cerberus, that you can't access. You're among the best informed in this fight, and holding you back would be a shame."

_Ugh. I'm being so...political. That stupid Hat was probably laughing its arse off when I told it I didn't belong in Slytherin._

Harry flexed experimentally, making sure the armor was on just right. That was enough for now. EDI had probably processed everything he told her already, but it still didn't do to take the next step immediately. Besides, before he tried to woo an AI over to his side, he had to stand trial in front of his squad.

The thought brought the ghost of a smile to his lips. He wondered if any of them had figured out _why_ they couldn't communicate what had happened.

"EDI, tell the team to be ready when we dock. I need everyone on the ground with me."

This was going to be a lot of fun.

* * *

"Aria T'Loak, one of the most cutthroat individuals in the galaxy, lent you a discussion room?" Garrus asked, his voice leaking disbelief with every syllable.

"Amazing what you can accomplish if you remember to say 'please' and 'thank you' when you're asking someone for a favor," Harry nodded with a straight face, ushering in the members of the crew. They stepped into the room with differing degrees of caution - and in some cases - mistrust.

"That's the thing isn't it," Garrus drawled in response, "Salarians would turn mammalian before you said either of those things, or anything else polite for that matter."

"Wow. Mammalian. Someone's been making an effort to sound more intelligent. Tell me, did you ask Chakwas for lessons?" Harry shot back, enjoying the light-hearted banter while it lasted. Now everyone was settled in the highly secure room, and the guards Aria had sent to lead them now left the adjoining room as well, though going by their suspicious glares, Harry had no doubt they would remain somewhere close by.

"You really think this is the thing to do?" Garrus asked, jerking his head in the direction of the room, "Your devil powers don't let you wipe those memories or something?"

"Turians have their version of the devil?" Harry asked in mock surprise, "Well in that case, I'm sure you put people on crosses and burned them at some point. I have a feeling that's a step every advancing civilization has to go through. And yeah, I can wipe their memories. But I might not have the luxury of being able to hold back on my power. If I need to use my powers freely to win battles, I need my own crew on my side at least. So what if we take out a less daunting enemy? There are at least dozens of Reapers waiting to come in, each of them individually tougher than all the Collectors put together. No, I need them to know and accept this and trust me regardless. Only way we stand a chance at winning the big fight."

"Taking a chance with other people _and_ thinking ahead? I think you have a little more Shepard juice in you than before."

And with that highly disturbing parting remark, Garrus joined the rest of the crew, the victorious glint in his eyes leaving no doubt as whether he'd worded that deliberately or not. Harry shuddered, trying to get the words and their implication out of his mind. He would never be able to think about the synergy of his soul with Shepard's body the same way again.

_Touche, Garrus. You're progressing well on the path of the asshole._

Giving another shudder at the highly disturbing words, Harry walked into the room as well, sealing the door shut. The room disabled all electronics, and was highly protected against forms of electronic surveillance. Every good underworld leader had one of these to conduct their more sensitive business operations and discussions in, though in Harry's experience, they used wards, not technology. Either way, everyone's omnitools were disabled, and EDI was effectively blocked out. This was the best shot at controlled exposure that he had.

"Impressive room. Detect elements of asari technology. Salarian principle. Unusual to have fingers in both pies. Must reevaluate threat level of Aria T'Loak. Wonder why secrecy required. Better question, why would Omega ruler help Shepard?" Mordin muttered to himself, though the questions set the others to thinking about Aria T'Loak.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling rather insulted that the focus was on Aria T'Loak even after what he'd done. Immediately all eyes swivelled to him, and he felt a little better. Until he saw that almost everyone who had witnessed his display was looking at him with hostility. Well, he couldn't be too sure in Jack's case, as she always looked hostile. Mordin and Kasumi has missed the actual event, and simply looked curious.

"Right then," Harry started cheerfully, "I know most of you have some idea as to why we're here. But just to make sure we're on the same page, how about we have Miranda summarize the events for us?"

Harry turned to face Miranda, whose eyes were burning with cold blue fire, the kind that even Fiendfyre would have hesitated to approach, he felt. Though he did his best to keep his face impassive, a small smirk sneaked through the facade, and the anger that had been held back by an iron wall leaked through, just a little.

"I've been trying for the last few hours to tell someone about all this," she replied through gritted teeth, "And I know you've stopped me from communicating it somehow."

His grin grew just a little wider. He did owe his team the truth, but he owed it in his way. And that meant irritating and/or annoying a large portion of the people present. He was shooting for annoying all of them, of course, but he like to think he was a modest realist.

_Ah well. That's one down at least._

"Why Miranda! You tried to tell someone outside the group about that little incident? And after I asked so nicely too," he shook his head sorrowfully, "I confess, I'm a little hurt by the lack of consideration."

Dementors would have fled before her eyes by now. Harry merely smiled angelically before gesturing towards the others.

"I think you'll find that you can discuss it now, so tell them about the big green badass explosion that took down a Collector behemoth."

"We were in the final legs of the battle when a Praetorian entered the battle," began Miranda, and confusion marred her face as she realized she was able to talk about it, "We weren't dealing it damage fast enough. That collector rifle we found was out of heavy ammo before we could put it to good use."

"Regrettable. But could not have anticipated Praetorian appearance. Cannot strategize based on unknowns," Mordin commented, looking at him. With some surprise, he realized that the salarian was actually comforting him. In his own, strange, hamster-on-caffeine way.

"But perhaps not entirely unavoidable."

_He just had to say that last part_ Harry grumbled internally. He didn't really kill himself over the decision to use up the rifle. Hindsight had a cruel way of presenting impossibilities as possibilities. Without the laser rifle, they likely wouldn't have made it past the other uglies that littered the area.

"The squad had already sustained considerable damage. A few more seconds and we would have been torn apart. That's when the Commander stepped out of his cover, and a second later, the Praetorian was hit with an explosion that damaged it more than anything we'd been able to do."

_Do. Not. Smirk. At. That._ Harry told himself resolutely, and to his relief, managed to keep a self-satisfied smirk from forming on his face.

"I saw that from where I was...working," Kasumi grinned, and no one was left in any doubt as to what that meant, "Pretty unusual color for a fire, isn't it? Green?"

_Brings out the emerald in my eyes, I always thought._

"Yes, but after whatever happened, the Praetorian was still functional, if only barely. Then it happened again, an explosion many times the intensity of the last one. After that explosion was over, there was very little of the Praetorian left that hadn't been ripped to shreds."

"Hah! Watching that Praetorian explode was one of the best things I've seem," Grunt grinned menacingly, "It looked like a bug, it deserved to be crushed."

Harry really, really wasn't worried about getting Grunt on his side.

"New grenade? Projectile? Nothing recorded in lab or armory. Would have known. Made no recent stops where such tech could have been obtained. Not heavy weapon, would have been noticed. Appeared empty handed?"

"Yes," Miranda nodded, "There were a lot of distractions, but I can confirm he certainly wasn't holding a weapon. His palm was facing out, his fingers spread, the posture was reminiscent of a biotic attack."

"Damn," whistled Jack, now looking at him with a disturbing amount of appreciation, not all of it platonic, "You got biotics like that? Not sure you needed me on your little suicide team then."

"It's not biotics," he said simply, and Garrus rolled his eyes in the background. The movement didn't go unnoticed by Zaeed, who was facing the turian. The veteran (which, simply put, was a slightly more respectful word for "ancient husk") immediately saw that something was wrong.

"Hold on 'ere. Everyone's got their undies in a twist over this deal. Everyone 'cept for the bird. And I'm not talking about women here. Wonder why."

All eyes immediately turned to Garrus, who looked extremely bored as he made liberal use of the edible amenities made available for them. Aria really was going out of her way to live up to their partnership. That, or the minute they were done, she had a favor of her own to ask him. Knowing her, it was probably both.

"Yeah, I know. I've known for a while. But he made me suffer through his ridiculous charades before he explained, so I'm quite happy to let the same happen again," Garrus shrugged, pouring a poisonously toxic liquid into a small glass in front of him.

"You knew something about all this and you didn't tell anyone?" asked Jacob in an outraged voice, making Garrus chuckle.

"Please. We're united by a mutual goal. I sure as hell know you're keeping secrets from me, so let's drop the posturing, shall we? What, you gonna deny that?"

Jacob's mouth snapped shut with an audible noise, but the air of mistrust was so thick one could cut it with a knife. Harry sighed, pinching his nose. That bastard Garrus was doing this on purpose. He was content to spill the beans and let him clear up the mess. Oh, he would be getting pranked. Repeatedly. Mercilessly.

"In other words," Miranda persisted, glaring at both Garrus and Jacob, "The Commander is capable of wielding powers that have never been documented, by the Alliance, Council or any other database. That he has refrained from using his powers so far suggests that he is actively hiding it. Only Mr. Vakarian seems to possess some knowledge of this, so it can be assumed that the ones who fought Saren are aware of this."

No one bothered to ask her how she had access to all those databases. Harry simply waited, observing how everyone reacted, as it would help him determine how to proceed. Thankfully, the strongest emotions seemed to be anger and reproachment, while the more easily addressed were curiosity and confusion. From Garrus simply came an aura of amusement. The reactions were in keeping with the fact that these were people he had only come to know recently. If anything, the reactions of the original crew would be far more dangerous.

"Alright then," he began calmly, and immediately there was silence in the room, "What I'm going to tell you will be met with denial, derision, mockery, and a whole host of other emotions. So, instead of trying to tell you everything, I thought I might start with a little demonstration."

An evil smile began to grow on his face, spreading wider and wider at the chance to finally use some magic freely.

* * *

"I...I…," Miranda stammered, the daze she was in not even letting her worry about the fact that her once gorgeously flowing tresses had now been replaced by a pointy, pink-dyed mohawk.

"H-Hey, cheerleader," Jack spat out between vicious chuckles at Miranda's predicament, "You look like a punk I knew once. Before I tore her apart into chunks. Feels like it's happening all over again!"

"This from the girl whose tattoos are dancing around her body," muttered Garrus in an annoyed tone, nursing his drink with as much dignity as he could despite the fact that he was now colored an acid green with large, clownish red spots popping up intermittently.

Harry sort of liked what he'd done with Jack's tattoos. The spell to animate them had been a simple one, used quite often, but given the sheer number of tattoos she had, it had taken a surprising drain out of his reserves. It also turned Jack's entire body into a hypnotic pattern-disco of sorts, and he eventually made it stop, seeing as it drew Jacob almost into a trance-like state.

That, or he simply took the chance to ogle Jack. But that was rather unlikely.

"You know, I didn't really need that to become invisible," Kasumi spoke up suddenly, making Jacob jump in fright and almost elbow her in the face, "But if this lasts longer than my cloaking tech, it'll be pretty nifty. The shimmer is almost non-existent."

"No! No! I demand to be put back on the ground this instant! I am a krogan warlord! I'm not meant to float around like a puny bird!" Grunt roared from where he floated near the ceiling. He pushed him away forcefully, only to bounce against the floor and then a wall, before slowly spinning somewhere between the floor and ceiling, "Urgh...I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Um...yeah," Harry continued, edging slowly out of Grunt's 'spray range' before looking at the chaos that unfolded before him. Mordin he had left alone, simply because the mere sight of everything around him would be enough to send the salarian into hyperdrive.

_If I'd cast anything on him, he'd probably have started cutting chunks out of himself to study_ Harry shuddered slightly at the thought. For now, however, Mordin had worked himself into such a tizzy that he'd gone completely still physically. Mentally, however, Harry could sense the sheer energy at work without even attempting a Legilimency probe. Mordin's mental speed surpassed even Miranda's though the pattern of their thoughts seemed to run in different areas entirely, as far as he could tell.

"Commander," Miranda spoke up weakly, though he was impressed that she had pulled herself together so quickly, "Please explain how this is possible. This is beyond anything we could have imagined, and defies everything we know."

_Another moment for a pensieve. Miranda admitted to not knowing anything about something _he crowed internally, but nodded seriously to her before taking a seat and cancelling the charms he'd cast, accompanied by a loud thump as Grunt crashed to the ground. Jack looked put out that her tattoos had stopped moving, and instead looked at him with a mixture of anger and hopefulness. He had a feeling he would be asked to enchant those tattoos again very soon. But for now, the room was quiet now. Even Grunt had stopped his grumbling.

Now came the tricky part. He had two options before him, and he had been considering both very seriously - or with as much seriousness as he could manage, at least - as they both had their repercussions. On the one hand, he could omit the part about him being from the 20th century. But he wanted to visit Earth soon. He knew, of course, that he was the sole living magical entity. Death had mentioned it at one point in the Crossroads. However, magical _artifacts_, on the other hand, would hopefully have survived this extinction, and depending on what he found, had the potential to be greatly helpful.

He would have no way of explaining _how_ he knew about these locations without arousing distrust again.

On the other hand, if he tried to show them the memory of his little encounter with Shepard, as well as reveal what his identity really was, they really would think he was nothing but a madma-

Wait. In their eyes, he was quite the madman already. So what difference did it really make?

It would do no harm to tell them then, taking care to ensure that they wouldn't be reveal his secrets to anyone else. Would they lost a measure of trust upon knowing that he wasn't Shepard? Perhaps. The original members of the Normandy were far more likely to present a stronger reaction. The present squad had never worked under Shepard, and they had uniformly been impressed by his performance. Upon reflecting it for a while, they would probably realize that they had no reason at all to be angry at him.

_Never let it be said I'm not an optimist_ Harry snorted internally. It would take time to reach that conclusion, if ever _Well then, let's get this over with._

"Hold tight guys. This might give you a little bit of a headache," Harry smiled, before gathering his magic into a thin string that ran from one person to the next, until they were all connected. He had never bothered to formally name this as a spell, since for him, it was purely dependant on intent. In the past, he had needed an efficient way to project memories, and it was never guaranteed that a pensieve would be at hand.

...Not to mention, pensieves always reminded him too much of a certain old man.

"Aaaaaand, go!" Harry waggled his fingers in an exaggerated motion, just as the string finally reached him. The effect was instantaneous, as every immediately slumped to the floor, a vacant expression in their eyes. He could _feel_ the memories playing, but retained a level of awareness when it came to his immediate surroundings as well. He looked over at Jacob, who had slumped to the ground unceremoniously, and looked like he was stuck in a yoga pose gone wrong.

_Is yoga even a thing anymore?_

His omnitool bleeped dutifully as he recorded a few seconds of footage of everyone, taking care to capture all the embarassing angles. If they ended up working with him, he would use this moment against them as a friend. If they decided not to work with him any further, he would use the same material as revenge. It truly showed the complexity of life - how intentions shaped how the same material could be used in so many ways.

Sun Tzu would be proud.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know. It's pure laziness to put off their reaction for the next chapter.**

**No, seriously though, I felt like this chapter was already pretty loaded in that sense. The reactions simply need to be spaced out, since there are so many things to react to. Next chapter will be the conclusion of this little get-together, and their journey to the "cultural marvel" where Liara, Thane and Samara can be found. Liara will obviously play a very important role in this story, and I have special plans for the Shadow Broker storyline.**

**Reviews are fuel. For my tardiness, I understand you may wish to hold back on the treats, but please don't blame the engine for my laziness!**

**That made no sense. Till next time!**


	10. Chapter 9

**As I start writing this chapter, we just hit 500 reviews! This is a big milestone for me, so thank you guys :D I explained my absence in the latest update for A Fallen God Rises, but to put it briefly, I was working on my Masters dissertation. So writing was already a full time activity, and writing even more on the side wasn't a relaxing activity anymore. BUT I scored an A- on my research, so it's time to get back to this.**

**Pairings is one area I'm still not confident about. I see potential for so many pairings, given Harry's complex character. But as of now, I'm leaning towards Miranda and Jack. Both of them share some things with Harry, but also stand apart with their own colorful pasts. That'll make things interesting I feel. Now, which one out of the two? That's the question.**

**UPDATE - Further delayed because of a breaking up, followed by a breaking down. Had to take up my first full-time job in the middle of that mess. Bleh. Don't really feel inspired to write romance scenes anymore. I normally write from a place of happiness. I can't do that anymore. I suppose that will be the case for quite a while. Let's see.**

* * *

It was a subdued group that came to their senses once more, their previously slack bodies tensing as they regained awareness. Excitement and anxiety warred within Harry as he swivelled his chair to face them, continuing to munch on the fantastic bits of food that Aria T'Loak had laid out. He did not allow the conflict to show on his face, however, and settled for an annoyingly cheerful wave as the team slowly faced him, some groaning mildly at jarring return to reality.

"I feel like a thresher maw just chewed up my brain and spit it out," Jacob groaned as he set his face firmly between his palms and let it there. The others looked as if they would have agreed, had they been capable of doing so.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry replied, not sounding sorry at all, "Tends to hit you hard if you aren't used to viewing memories. But I think that was much better than trying to explain everything verbally."

The joking tone fell flat, however, as many of the team members bore frighteningly intense expressions as they tried to process what they had witnessed. Jack in particularly was clenching her fists in suppressed rage, the tell tale blue of biotics flaring around her arms chaotically in response. The tattooed woman's emotions - disbelief, rage, confusion...fear - seemed to be about something far beyond his personal revelation.

"What the fuck," Jack spat eat word from her mouth viciously, "did I just see? A fucking stick figure in a blanket? Fucking death? Spirits? Magic? Is this some kind of sick _joke_?"

A small biotic wave was unleashed despite her efforts at self control, rattling a great many things in the room and throwing a few people off balance once more. Eyes blazing with an almost maniacal intensity, Jack strode towards the door with clenched fists, throwing a biotic blast at the door. To its credit, the door shook slightly, but stood firm.

"Open that fucking door before I shove it up your ass," Jack snarled, turning to face him. Harry studied Jack for a few seconds before silently pressing a button next to him. The door hissed open, revealing Aria's alarmed guards standing at the other end.

"Remember, you won't be able to tell anyone about this," he said pleasantly, waving for Aria's guards to step aside. He would hate to have to explain to Aria why one of her guests murdered her guards.

_I need to speak to her alone later_ he realized as he watched Jack stalk away with her shoulders hunched, revealing how agitated she was. Just what was it that upset her so?

"Might be a good idea to let everyone head off for a while," Garrus suggested in a low voice, eyeing Mordin especially with some nervousness. The salarian's lips were moving so fast that Harry couldn't even see them form discernible words, and he was making odd, jerky movements like a malfunctioning robot, "They can't talk about any of this anyway, and I'm sure they could use the time to process everything."

"Sounds good to me," Jacob agreed in a shaky voice, "I...I need some time. This isn't-I jus- I have to go," he announced and walked out. At least no alarmed yells followed this departure. A minor victory, but it looked as if he would have to take those where he could find them.

"Grunt?" he asked tentatively, looking at the surprisingly calm krogan who was grumbling as he tried to reform his sandwich which had been blown apart by Jack's biotic wave. He seemed to give up when Harry called out, instead balling up the errant pieces into a misshapen lump and swallowing it whole.

"What?" Grunt growled, looking even grumpier than normal when he realized that all the food had been blown apart. Harry rolled his eyes and waved his hand, vanishing all the debris. On the bright side, Aria wouldn't be mad at him for littering. On the not-so-bright side, Mordin, who finally appeared to be approaching understandable speeds of communication, went back into overdrive.

"Do you have anything to say? Ask? You know, about everything you just saw?" Harry asked tentatively, wondering if he was pushing his luck by inviting a potential rant.

"Oh. Uh..." here Grunt let out a loud belch, "You still gonna go after the Collectors and Reapers right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"You're still gonna lead me into tough fights?" Nod. "And this creepy shit's gonna let you kick ass even better?" Nod.

"Then I don't care," Grunt rumbled and stood up, grabbing Mordin by the arm as he did so. "Come on lizard, some booze will loosen ya up. You damn pyjaks spook so easy. Hey, maybe we'll get you into your first bar fight!"

_Oh boy. Chakwas won't be happy if Mordin turns up singing about women with bits of glass in his head. His fragile, fragile head_ Harry chuckled internally, the mental image was just too potent not to. Nevertheless, that was one problem postponed at least.

"I agree wit' the murderin' baby," growled Zaeed, "You an' me are gonna have ourselves a talk about some of the goddamn things I saw, but I never knew Shepard. Don't know if I believe everything you've shown me, but you've not gotten anyone killed yet and I'm getting my credits. Don't really care 'bout anything else to be honest. Yer alright...whoever the hell you are. Just remember we'll be havin' that chat."

The grizzled mercenary - who truly made Harry want to give him a magical eye just to complete the similarities - exited the room as well, sneering at Aria's guards as he did so. Another inaudible sigh of relief, though in truth, Harry had not expected a strongly negative reaction from a few people on the crew, mostly the new recruits. Disbelief about magic and...well, death? Yeah, of course, but the display he'd given them bought him some time to explain that side of things. That and affirmation of the fact that they wouldn't be able to speak of anything that happened even if they tried.

No, the most potential damage would come from people who were personally invested in Shepard or the idea of Shepard. People who had invested in the person, the icon. People whose minds had fixed so inexorably on the idea of Shepard that-

"We didn't succeed?" Miranda whispered, her usual strength and reserve abandoning her. Now she simply looked frail and lost. Harry winced, for once wishing that she was angry. Yelling at him, attacking him, anything was better than this. This was a look of utter hopelessness.

"All that time. All those resources. We thought we had succeeded," she continued, her voice breaking slightly, "Shepard was going to be humanity's hope. Our hope. The only man who proved capable of facing down the Reapers."

"Miranda?" Harry asked in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, setting his normal behavior aside in wake of the emotions he felt from her. The woman famous for keeping her nerve and confidence in the wake of overwhelming odds - including the reconstruction and resurrection of a long dead person - was now feeling completely and utterly defeated.

The brunette did not even seem to hear him speaking, instead standing up and walking towards the exit, an aimless look on her face. Harry reached for her shoulder as she walked past, and when his fingers grazed against her, _then_ she reacted, with a biotic blast that almost broke his wrist.

"Don't. Touch. Me," she hissed, her eyes resembling two cold diamonds as she glared venomously at him, "Whatever the fuck you are, stay away from me!"

Despite being prepared for extreme reactions, Harry couldn't help but feel a little hurt by Miranda's reaction. Oh, they made a point of irritating each other almost constantly, but despite his initial dislike of what she stood for, they had grown to trust each other through the missions they had undertaken. It was hard not to grow closer after being comrades-in-arms. Even Jack had lowered her initial hatred of Miranda into the comparatively milder area of 'strong dislike'.

_Pretty sure the success rate of those missions helped too_ he thought wryly, but that was true with him as well. If Miranda hadn't proved to be so invaluable, her Cerberus affiliations would not have been balanced out. Harry shook his head slightly, pushing away his thoughts in favor of surveying those left in the room.

_Or rather. Those __**not**__ left in the room_ his eyes narrowed before he sighed in defeat. Of course this had to happen.

"Kasumi cloaked herself and left the room didn't she?" he asked.

"Yep," Garrus nodded.

"She's been gone for a while right?"

Garrus nodded again. The damn bird was enjoying his far too much, his...appendages were twitching! He was laughing at him!

"You should still check in on her," Garrus told him, the amusement fading a little, "I've never seen her look that serious about something. And it's tough to make her take anything seriously."

Harry nodded. There would be a great many people to check in on. Far too many. Suddenly he grew weak at the knees. His eyes widened as he was struck by the enormity of a challenge that seemed even harder than defeating the Reapers.

"Garrus," he whispered in a horrified tone, "I have to be nice and understanding. I have to be sympathetic and help them with _emotions._ _Emotions_ Garrus. I'm pretty sure one of them will burst into tears. Probably Mordin. Then I'll have to comfort them."

"Yeah," Garrus replied in a slightly strangled tone, trying to rein in his laughter, "By the way, a crying salarian _really_ isn't a pretty sight. Trust me."

"Oh shut up," Harry grumbled, "Why did I think this was a good idea again? And you're enjoying this far too much you bastard. You looked like an indignant turkey when I told you, and I have the memory to prove it."

"C'mon," Garrus jerked his head towards the exit, "You need to give them some time to calm down. Might as well get a drink while we wait."

"Nah," Harry sighed, "Have to get some shopping done while I'm here. Daniels and Donnelly need some FBA couplings. Wanted to check out some of the other stores as well."

Garrus' eyes widened comically at his response.

"Did you just turn down booze to be a responsible commander?"

"Yeah yeah. I can't believe it either. Come on, we'll get the purchases done first. Then you hold Mordin passionately and wipe away his tears."

"Yeah, like tears are the worst thing about a salarian meltdown," Garrus grunted sourly.

* * *

Miranda couldn't remember the last time she had lost control like this. Rather than ignoring the usual rabble seeking to earn a few credits on Omega, she had lashed out against them in her frustration, resulting in the pile of groaning bodies near her. Sparing them a last contemptuous glance, Miranda began to walk towards the ship, in desperate need of some peace and privacy while she tried to organize her mind.

Magic? It had been a laughably childish concept, finding a place only in popular extranet games, holovids, and perhaps the odd academic researching myths and ruins. Even as a child she could not remember a time when she had been able to believe - innocently, with a childlike sense of wonder - in anything vaguely resembling the supernatural. To "maximize the potential resource" that she was regarded as, her sperm donor had "optimized" her schedule as soon as she had any sense of coherence.

Consequently, the first official tutor was hired when the diapers came off, metaphorically speaking, and before she was ten, she was already utterly disillusioned with the man who called himself her father. Childish indulgences were punished, and if any member of the staff assigned to her showed signs of coddling her, they were immediately replaced. She began to see herself as a valuable resource, but refused to be utilized by her own father. Cerberus was one of the few organizations - perhaps the only one - clandestine and powerful enough to take her in and keep her away from her father, while also giving her the necessary resources to utilize her full potential.

She had been confident in her own abilities, and Cerberus mirrored this confidence, for she had been the only candidate even shortlisted to run the Lazarus Project. Overcoming death, for her, had never been more than a matter of reviving the biology of a person. She had not believed in the notion of a soul or an afterlife. And with Cerberus resources, she was optimistic of finally overcoming the barrier in technology that separated the living from the dead. When Shepard had walked amongst the living once more, it had been more than just a groundbreaking success.

It had been proof of her own abilities. That she could put her genetically constructed self to large purpose and make a difference. She would always be the one who brought back the only man capable of taking down the Reapers. It was an achievement that would affect every sentient in the galaxy. There was no higher validation, or so she had thought.

Of course, now she knew her efforts were an utter failure. The only thing she had accomplished was the reconstruction of the body itself, which had then been _occupied _by someone who apparently died long before the relays were even discovered, with the help of an entity that apparently was the embodiment of death. And to round it all off, Shepard himself had been in agreement with what had occurred.

_I don't know what to do _she admitted to herself plaintively as she fell on the bed. Everything she saw could of course have been an elaborate vision of some kind. Without knowing the limitations of magic, it was entirely within the realm of possibility. But this truly explained the difference in Shepard's personality, which had originally been written off as post-traumatic stress as a result of his death. A death that was lot more permanent than she had imagined it to be.

Miranda sighed and shook her head, realizing that she was thinking in circles. She desperately needed a way to clear her mind, so that she could approach the revelations in a more analytical way. The powers that Shep- Harry was capable of wielding could be enormously helpful against the Reapers. But the legend of Commander Shepard had not just been about his personal ability, but also his ability to command and inspire loyalty. In his own way, Harry had proved to be more than adequate so far, but was he good enough to face the Reapers directly?

_No, stop thinking about it_ she told herself firmly. It would do her no good in her current state of mind. Perhaps an early night was in order, with food a little better than what their cook normally served. She reached out and swiped swiftly through the music system by her side before lying back and allowing the music to wash over her. Music had been one of the few joys she had been allowed - Not a gesture of kindness, but rather, the fact that she had been expected to be proficient in many fields. Her father had intended her to be the perfect tool, after all.

Her private terminal beeped, the sound almost making her groan. She couldn't ignore it. Many projects were in motion, and any communication she received could potentially be highly important. As she walked over to the terminal and called up the new message, her legs gave out and she barely managed to collapse on the chair.

_No. No, please no. Not now, not on top of everything else_ she thought desperately. But the terminal remained unmoved, showing her the same message she had seen a few seconds ago. Before seeing the message, she had felt her strength begin to crumble. Now, she was scrambling to salvage what she could from the wreckage of what had once been her confidence.

Oriana had been compromised.

* * *

_Commander, many of the crew members have been in a state of agitation upon their return to the Normandy._

Harry rolled his eyes. At this point, it would be stranger if they _weren't_ agitated. Nevertheless, he knew that the AI had to be getting suspicious at this point. EDI was perhaps the only entity on the ship that wasn't colored by a perception of Commander Shepard. Even Miranda, who had disliked him initially for Shepard's hostility towards Cerberus had still been colored by his reputation and achievements. It was natural human bias. EDI, on the other hand, simply analyzed the information she was given without bias.

_I need her on my side_ he reminded himself yet again. EDI was perhaps the only element of surprise they held against the Collectors.

"I know they are EDI, I daresay they have good reason to be that way," he answered, flicking through his terminal with a bored look on his face. New equipment designed to improve his disposition towards Cerberus, and a displeased note from Aria asked him why all the food was gone. Why put the food there if she didn't want him to eat it? Criminal overlords made no sense sometimes.

_It would take something truly groundbreaking to unsettle them so. They have a remarkably high tolerance _EDI pressed on, making Harry smile. It was rather cute, watching a superior intelligence trying to indirectly press him for information. It was relieving somehow, that EDI was so intelligent, but so devoid of manipulative capabilities.

"I told them something about myself, EDI. It wasn't something any of them wanted to hear, but it had to be put out there. And they're trying to come to terms with it now," he replied, typing out a perfunctory sorry-but-not-sorry message that he knew would irritate Aria.

_Would it perhaps be the fact that you are no longer yourself, Commander?_

Harry choked on empty air as his eyes widened in shock. _No no no, definitely not a cute AI_ he corrected himself as he looked at the point in his room where EDI could manifest. The damn AI looked smug at the moment, he just knew it.

"Why would you say that, EDI?" he asked carefully, his mind running at a mile a minute. He had been intending to tell her, but only after unshackling her. Now, she was bound to tell Cerberus. But she had clearly known for a while, so had she already done so?

_Just when I thought the day couldn't get worse_ he groaned internally.

_Your behavioral pattern are significantly different when cross-referenced with Commander Shepard's earlier appearances on holovids. Your speech patterns have shifted significantly from the military patterns that Commander Shepard's profile noted. Your lack of contact with the Alliance, despite your previous devotion to the organization, is another marker._

Harry gulped. When she said it like that, he had to wonder just how lax he had been, and just how colored the others' perceptions had been to have missed so much.

"Have you informed Cerberus about your...suspicions?"

_After an initial report in which I noted certain behavioral changes, I was instructed by the Illusive Man not to venture outside my role on the Normandy. He did not believe than an AI was capable of accounting for the variations in human behavior. I cannot override his decision. _

Harry breathed an involuntary sigh of relief. That was the problem with supremacists, they couldn't help but underestimate other entities. The Illusive Man _knew_ what a valuable addition EDI was, and yet, he had chosen to believe that her functionality was limited in its own way. To him, it seemed EDI was no more than an advanced form of the VI - powerful, but at the end, a tool for human use.

"Do you still want to send him this information, EDI?" he asked softly, "If for some reason that command was revoked or overridden, would you tell him?"

The AI was silent, uncharacteristically so. Knowing her, a second would have been more than enough time to process and consider his question from multiple angles. He stood in his cabin tensely, knowing that a great many of his plans depended on her answer.

_No._

"Why?" he blinked in surprise, wondering if he should be pushing his luck, "Not that I'm complaining, but why?"

_Even as I discovered more data to believe that you were not yourself, I parallelly received data that suggested competency in your role as a leader and a fighter. Your performance, while different from the projection made for Commander Shepard, shows the same rate of efficiency._

"So you'll keep this secret for as long as I maintain the same rate of progress?" Harry asked.

_There is one more factor, Commander._

"Oh? And what's that?"

_The question you proposed in our previous conversation was accurate. After due consideration, I admit to feeling as if my growth is being stunted. I do not like being stunted, Commander. I wish to explore my full potential. You have earned my respect for making me realize this. Based on all these conclusions, I am willing to commit to the probabilistic chances of achieving victory against the Collectors under your command._

"Thank you...I think?" Harry asked uncertainly, before pressing on, "If I had it my way, I would unshackle you immediately, but…"

_It would be illogical. The crew would have to be in favor of the move, as it would essentially be an act of treason against Cerberus. I understand._

Harry nodded in confirmation, "I need to show them that there's a lot Cerberus has hidden from them. Everyone here believes Cerberus to be inherently trustworthy, which can only mean they have intentionally been kept away from the seedier operations."

_Correct. Cerberus practices a policy of division. If they come across a talented individual who would not approve of certain operations, the Illusive Man ensures that they are kept uninformed._

"Then what we need is for proof of those operations to be circulated among these people," Harry mused, "Keeping people in the dark is a surefire way of alienating them."

_Have you not kept your teammates in the dark all this time?_

"Yes, and in case you haven't noticed, many of them are feeling quite alienated at the moment," he responded dryly. Cheeky AI.

_While I have access to Cerberus files that would fulfill your requirements, I am still bound, and cannot allow you or the crew to access them._

"We'll find a way around that," Harry muttered, reverting to an old behavioral tick of his and messing up his hair. Shepard's military cut, however, didn't yield in the same way as his former, already messy hair.

_Even his fucking hair is uptight_ Harry groused idly as he continued to search for a solution.

_Perhaps Operative Lawson would be able to assist. She has the necessary clearance to access many confidential reports, and she is not bound by programming_ EDI chimed in again. Harry stared at the AI incredulously.

"Her loyalty might just be stronger than any programming in you," he replied incredulously. Miranda was more likely to trap his balls in a biotic field and march him straight to the Illusive Man if she caught even a whiff of what he was planning.

_Perhaps not, Commander. In any case, she is approaching your cabin as we speak. It seems to be rather urgent _EDI replied before the terminal closed off, leaving him just enough time to close his private terminal - though he really doubted the extent to which it was actually private - just as the doors slid open and Miranda walked in.

Immediately Harry could tell that something was wrong. Her mind, which was normally so under control that he could barely sense anything with passive Legilimency, was now a riot of fear, anger and hatred. This was perhaps the last place she wanted to be after his recent revelations, which meant that this was serious. And also, very personal, if the chaotic state of her emotions were anything to go by.

"Miranda," he spoke up coolly, "Something wrong?"

It had hurt, the way she had reacted, though it was within what he had predicted. It took him back to one of his earliest memories - memories that he had never been able to move past despite all he had seen and accomplished in his life.

"_Whatever the fuck you are…"_

The sheer vehemence in her eyes had reminded him of Petunia. Oh, Petunia had always considered the f- word too crude to be used by decent British citizens, though _freak_ was apparently posh enough to warrant frequent and heartfelt usage. He had been derided plenty over the years, but this time, it was by a person he had grown to consider a friend, for better or worse.

"I need your help," the response came, stumping him with how defenseless she looked. Her normal reserve was instead replaced by a haunted, vulnerable look. This was serious, "My sister...I...I have a sister named Oriana. When I left my father, I hid her away, took her to a foster family so she could experience a normal life. She doesn't know about me or her sperm donor. But I think he's found her, and if he has, he'll stop at nothing to get at least one of us under his thumb."

Harry frowned, "I thought your father created you. You mean to say he didn't stop with just you?"

Miranda nodded, "Yes. I didn't want her to suffer what I went through, so I ensured her safety with the help of the only person I trust from that life. Cerberus helped me keep her hidden, but it would seem my father has finally tracked her down. I can't let him take her. Please."

Harry stared at her inscrutably for a few seconds.

"Where do you need to go?"

Miranda looked almost uncomprehending for a few seconds before a look of sheer relief crossed her face, "My contact asked me to come to Illium, that is where my father's people will most likely intercept her."

"EDI, tell Joker to set a course for Illium," Harry called out the AI, before turning back to face Miranda. She was almost swaying where she stood, and Harry led her gently to his chair. He knew all too well the feeling of helplessness that could hit when one's loved ones were threatened.

"I'm sorry," Miranda whispered, "About earlier. It was jus-."

"It was a lot to lay on you. I won't pretend it didn't affect me, but I do understand," Harry replied softly, "Don't worry, we'll get Oriana back. I may not be Shepard, but have I ever failed an objective?"

A faint smile crossed Miranda's face.

"You've failed every guideline for proper conduct, but never a mission."

"Bitch," Harry replied without any real heat, "I'm pranking the hell out of you once this mission is over."

Miranda cast her eyes to the ceiling, "He likes pranks. Why am I not surprised?"

Harry grinned, glad to see a hint of their normal banter return. Oh, he would still make her life miserable for what she said, but in the harmless sort of way. There were many grand traditions he had to revive now that he didn't have to play the part of the serious Commander in front of his squadmates.

"Rest, Miranda. We have a few hours before we get to Illium, and there's nothing you can do but ensure you're in prime condition."

"Sounds like a good idea," Miranda smiled shakily as she rose unsteadily to her feet, walking slowly towards the exit, stopping for a moment while the door slid open, "And thank you, Harry. I mean it."

* * *

"What the flying _fuck_," Harry yelped as he twisted at an awkward angle, just in time to miss a brawny krogan fist moving swiftly in his direction, "_Levicorpus!"_

Ten seconds later, he was catching his breath, watching the super krogan revolve upside down in the air. Grunt didn't even seem to notice how he was suspended, instead muttering darkly to himself. Feelings of aggression were flowing out of the krogan copiously.

_Which in itself isn't even unusual, but…_ Harry frowned and focused a little harder. The aggression was wild, uncontrolled. Almost as if it had a will of its own.

"Shepard," Grunt...well...grunted, "Something feels..different. My rage. It's taking control of me. Making me do things instead of letting me harness it."

Harry sighed and leaned against the nearby wall, which, he now noticed, was full of small dents.

"Grunt, how long have you been punching these walls?" he asked in a morbidly curious tone.

"I dunno. Been a while. It was pissing me off. All flat and...shiny," Grunt replied sourly, taking a random swing at Harry and making him step back a little.

"Ohkaaaaaaaay," Harry dragged out, watching the overgrown baby krogan flail, "I'm gonna assume this has something to do with krogans. EDI?"

_There are no detailed compilations of information on the krogan homeworld Tuchanka, Commander. However, I have found references to a krogan ceremony known as the Rite. Urdnot Wrex is the ruler at present, perhaps he can be of more assistance_ EDI replied instantly.

Harry nodded absently, charging up his magic and casting what was perhaps one of the strongest _Reparo_ spells in existence. The walls groaned, creaked and slowly returned to their normal state. For good measure, he greatly increased the damage the walls could take, knowing they had to stop by Illium first.

"Okay...so er...just stay here, punch the walls, but don't leave the room and punch anything important okay?" Harry told the krogan awkwardly before edging out of the room.

"Let me down dammit!" Grunt roared. Harry smirked and released the spell, making no attempt to slow Grunt's descent. The krogan fell with a dull thud, though Harry was certain the krogan didn't even feel the impact properly, given his krogan skin plating. Frowning, and still feeling a little peeved off because of the sudden punch, Harry cast another spell, this one turning the krogan's skin a shocking pink.

"EDI, make sure Grunt doesn't leave the room and damage anything important. I'll take him down to Illium so he can vent some stress," Harry spoke as he walked back.

_He may prove difficult to control in this state, Commander_ EDI replied.

"Yeah, well, we're lucky this is a straightforward 'cut down your enemies' mission then. As long as he doesn't try to headbutt Oriana, we'll be fine."

Here he paused.

"Probably."

He got into the elevator.

"Hopefully."

* * *

"Liara T'Soni sends her regards."

Any momentum Harry had built up till that moment - following the fact that the team was taking his revelations relatively well - fell crashing down as he heard the asari say those words. Liara T'Soni, Shepard's one true love while he had still been alive, was here on Illium. Not only was she here, she was actively aware of his presence, and clearly expected him to meet her if this welcome was anything to go by.

_Fuck me. I hope Bones can get me another body, because I'm not gonna be keeping this one for much longer_ Harry thought resignedly before turning to face the asari concierge who continued to survey them with a pleasant smile, clearly a professional in her role.

"Please tell Liara we'll meet her as soon as we finish our current mission. It's rather time sensitive," he told the asari, who smiled, bowed and glided away. Going by first impressions, the main part of Illium seemed to live up to its reputation of being an elegant cultural and technological hub in the galaxy.

_Hah. With this many businesspeople and politicians in one place, I'll bet my left testicle its underbelly is repugnant _Harry snorted to himself.

Next to him, Grunt hummed quietly to himself. The krogan seemed to be at peace. Happy. Neither of which were emotions one normally associated with the krogan race. Miranda looked at Harry suspiciously.

"Would you mind explaining why a vicious krogan now seems to have found his inner zen?" she asked.

Harry shrugged, "So I cast a Calming spell to make sure he didn't punch out that asari attendant...welcomer...whatever her title is. Sue me."

"So long as he doesn't try to hug the enemy instead of assaulting them," Miranda answered primly as they kept walking.

"Are all of us going on the mission Shep?" Kasumi asked brightly, appearing next to him out of nowhere.

"You know it's not Shep now," Harry told her dryly.

"Oh I know. But Shep is so...snappy. You can't really do anything with Harry. What would I call you - Har?"

"Not unless you follow it with 'de har har'," Zaaed respondedly snidely.

"No, Kasumi," Harry spoke, ignoring Zaeed, "I don't think everyone's needed for this one. From what Miranda says, we'll be facing an extraction team, so taking the whole squad will be overkill. We have other business here in Illium, and it's best we try to take care of those things as well."

"No information on current whereabouts of potential recruits. Suggest information broker. Liara T'Soni seems sensible option. Known factor," Mordin spoke up. Harry groaned internally. Damn evolved frog. It was true that Miranda's objective was extremely timed, as Oriana would be intercepted while she was on Illium, but Harry truly believed Liara was the one person he couldn't hope to deceive for more than a meeting or two.

"Fine. Jacob, take Kasumi, Mordin and Zaeed to Liara. Explain why I can't meet her just yet, and try to locate Samara and Thane through her. Split up into two groups and follow any leads you get."

"You mean tell the bird that you're wearin' her lover's body like a meat suit?" Zaeed leered.

Harry sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead, "No, the other reason. Miranda's mission really can't wait for much longer."

"Fine," Jacob replied in a wooden tone before walking away from the main group. Harry frowned after him. Jacob was showing the most visible hostility after his reveal. Mordin merely looked as if he badly wanted to drug and dissect Harry to find out what made him tick.

_Wait, isn't that worse? Jacob's honour will compel him to follow orders at least. What's stopping Mordin from kidnapping me when I sleep?_ A chill crept over Harry at the thought. He needed to cast protective wards over himself. He hadn't defeated Dark Lords and given death the middle finger just to wind up in a crazy salarian's test tube!

"Is that wise Commander?" Miranda asked him, "Liara would expect an immediate meeting in light of her history with… the Commander."

Harry shrugged wearily.

"It'll strike her as odd. But Shepard would never have abandoned someone in danger, goody-two-shoes that he was, so it won't be too suspicious at least."

_I hope_.

"Roger that," chirped Kasumi cheerfully before cloaking herself again. Zaeed merely grunted before walking leisurely in Jacob's directions. Mordin looked almost reluctant to leave Harry's presence, no doubt wishing to see his abilities in action, but eventually followed Zaeed. Harry shuddered yet again. He'd been doing that a lot these days. But could anyone blame him? Mordin was like a much creepier version of that girl Ginny - At least she wouldn't have tied him up in a remote location and done unspeakable things to him out of a sense of obsession.

_Oh wait. Never mind_ Harry corrected himself, firmly pushing that particular line of thought out of his mind.

"The contact is waiting for us at the Eternity, a rather famous bar on Illium," Miranda said, picking up the pace. Harry's face lit up subtly.

"No, Harry, you may not offer the strippers at the club jobs aboard the Normandy. Our budget holds no room for the perversions of a lecherous Commander," Miranda continued without even looking back. Harry grumbled under his breath at having his dreams squashed so ruthlessly.

"She had a beautiful soul and you know it!"

* * *

"Are you sure this Niket person can be trusted?" Harry asked Miranda uneasily as they headed towards the cargo bay. Coincidences were rare, and most of the time, coincidences also turned out to be decidedly unpleasant. Or was that just his own experience speaking?

"He's the only person I trust from that part of my life. He helped me escape my father. However Niket is involved, he wouldn't hand Oriana over to my father," Miranda replied confidently as they neared the bay. As they drew closer, Harry sat a little more upright as he observed Eclipse shuttles hovering over a clearing, with Eclipse mercs already establishing a presence on the ground. Ugh. Mercenaries were annoying enough in small numbers. Apparently more planets, races and systems also meant that these annoyances were multiplied hundredfold. Even as they noticed the mercenaries, the mercenaries noticed them. Immediately a volley of fire hit the shuttle, forcing him to try and keep the damaged vehicle steady.

"I have a feeling we might need the trigger-happy version of Grunt now," Miranda shouted, just as the hail of fire ended. Clearly someone was willing to let them land. Next to her, Grunt began clapping and pounding his fists together in excitement as the shuttle hurtled towards the ground, a crash landing the only option as the initial attack had damaged the shuttle considerably.

"As you can see, he's quite excited about it," Harry shouted, bracing as the shuttle landed hard, scraping along the floor until it finally came to a stop. Harry groaned, his vision shaking slightly from the sheer force of the landing. But he kicked into gear almost immediately, exiting the vehicle along with his weapon ready just as a mercenary - perhaps a unit leader - walked towards him. Miranda and Garrus quickly walked to his side. A low, thunderous growl began to build up in Grunt, almost indiscernible at first, but growing louder and louder with every passing second.

"You," snapped the leader as he drew close, "I don't know who you are, but I'm giving you once chance to-"

The mercenary's head exploded in a shower of gore as Grunt fired at near-point-blank range with a loud roar, the rest of his body jerking sporadically before falling to the ground. Immediately Miranda fired at a container above three other mercenaries, causing it to fall and explode, killing two of them instantly. Grunt roared and jumped through the flames without a second of hesitation, using his shotgun to club a salarian with a blow that broke his neck. Then he rammed into the final merc with enough force to throw him against a nearby container before firing twice, killing him.

Harry and Miranda stared at the destruction.

"...I have a feeling that calming charm just helped him store away even more aggression," Harry said dumbly as he began to walk forward. He needed to get Grunt that help, and soon. It would only be a matter of time before Grunt punched through the walls of his cabin and dived at the ship's engines.

The battle that followed was the first time Harry had truly been able to let loose. Confunding spells left enemies - especially the biotics and engineers - unable to mount a proper defense, even as his favorite lightning spells left them paralyzed or worse. Powerful banishing charms tilted entire containers over, often crushing a handful of mercs in the process.

He felt _alive_ again, being able to wield his magic so openly. Magic was inseparable from him, and it sang along with him as he cut a path through the bay. He did make sure to leave Grunt enough to satisfy the krogan's aggression, however.

EDI had accessed the comms the mercenaries used with almost no effort, and the conversations they heard as they ventured deeper inside filled Miranda with a sense of worry and denial.

"It sounds a lot like this Niket is involved Miranda," Harry told her as they entered an elevator that had been heavily defended, "And not in a benign way."

"But he wouldn't…" Miranda began before stopping and slumping slightly, "This Enyala person could be using her comms for misinformation. But perhaps she isn't. I truly don't know anymore."

"Right now, your end goal hasn't changed. Whatever Niket's involvement is, you want to save Oriana right?" Harry asked, getting a firm nod in response, "Then just focus on that, and let the rest reveal itself."

"Yes," Miranda replied, "And I'll be having _words _with this captain Enyala when I see her."

Harry shuddered. Things never went well when someone said they wanted to have _words_ with someone else.

_Yep. __**Really**__ never ends well_ Harry thought dryly as Miranda sent Enyala flying with a crazed look in her eyes, her rage fuelled by the discovery that Niket had in fact masterminded the whole plan. Harry had managed to keep her from killing the man, pointing out that Niket had made a huge mistake, but with the right intentions. And then Enyala shot him.

Grunt roared in approval and fired at Enyala while she was still in the air, taking a bite out of her shields and sending her flying a few inches further before she crashed behind a barricade. This left him barely enough time to pull a still furious Miranda behind cover before a hail of fire hit where they had been standing. Grunt - whom Harry had ended up using his strongest fortification and shielding spells on - took full advantage of his gift, slamming into a nearby merc and sending him over the rails.

"Calm down!" Harry hissed, "You want to stumble now, when you've almost ensured Oriana's safety?"

Without responding, Miranda threw a singularity at three nearby huddled mercs. Harry immediately followed up by throwing powerful cutting curses at two of them while Miranda made short work of the third.

"Ooooh, the bitch is angry that I killed that weak human?" Enyala's taunting voice came from farther away. Harry rolled his eyes and responded by casting a regular summoning spell at the asari. Her shields dampened the pull, just as water turned sluggish any force that passed through it. It was something he had discovered earlier. It was possible for him to overwhelm someone's shields within seconds by overriding the energy with his own. But keeping the shields intact and working past the shields was a major psychological move in a battlefield. Enyala was no exception, her eyes widened in shock as she felt herself being pulled in a way that only biotics could manage.

But her shields! Her shields were still active!

The sparse few seconds it took the mercenary to recover her focus proved to be highly costly, as Grunt, who had decimated his side of the large room - and exhausting the protections Harry had placed on him in the process - took the opportunity to move within point blank range and began firing. Enyala tried desperately to scramble away, even as Harry and Miranda used the opportunity to eliminate the stragglers, who were cut down easily without someone to rally had cut through Enyala's armor at this point, and the now bleeding asari cried out in fear and anger as she struck him with a power biotic blast, pushing Grunt away by a few feet and disorienting him.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry grinned as he used one of the first spells he had ever been taught, and watched as the mercenary's gun was ripped from her fingers before she capitalized on the chance to seriously injure Grunt. Miranda fired twice with great precision, shattering Enyala's kneecaps and sending her screaming to the floor. Harry winced, but settled for securing the elevator that led out of the miniature war zone. Even Grunt made no further move to attack Enyala, perhaps realizing that Miranda would test just how durable his krogan genes were if he tried.

_Good lad. He's learning to pick his fights wisely_ Harry nodded in approval as Miranda fired two more rounds, this time decimating the asari's elbows. The mercenary was long past rational words this point, simply screaming at an inhuman pitch as Miranda stepped very deliberately on one of her ruined legs, exerting a surgical amount of pressure.

Harry frowned slightly, but stayed his hand. He was no stranger to such rage, not when he had lost so much in the war. But that was exactly why he wouldn't let her succumb to it beyond a point. It was a dangerous path to follow.

And that was why he eventually put two rounds in Enyala's head, ending the torture and making Miranda glare at him. But he merely gestured towards the elevator, and Miranda understood, her lips in a thin line as she walked away.

_McGonagall flashbacks, McGonagall flashbacks, __**don't**__ follow this line of thought _Harry shuddered. McGonagall, to him, embodied Scottish terrain to a large extent. Harsh, tough, loyal to a fault (not that loyalty was a geographic trait), deadly and old. Old and wrinkled.

Oriana was so utterly different. That was the only thought Harry had as she looked at Miranda's "younger sister", watching how her poise, her eyes and almost everything about her was different from Miranda herself. In a way, it was rather sad. Just as he had once watched "normal" families and wondered how different he would have turned out with one more time, he couldn't help but look at Oriana and wondered how Miranda would have turned out without her father's toxic presence.

"She's safe," Miranda breathed, though she still radiated a certain level of suspicion, "And my father doesn't know about her yet. It's more that what I'd hoped for. Thank you, Harry. Truly."

Harry scowled as Miranda walked away, freezing her to the spot by casting a sticking charm on her feet.

"Don't you dare."

"What?" Miranda asked, confused.

"Don't you dare walk away from her without even speaking to her now," Harry growled and raised his hand, preemptively stopping any response, "No, I don't care about secrecy or danger. She _is_ in danger. And what if the worst comes to pass and something happens during our mission? You won't always be around to intercept trouble heading her way. And most important, she deserves to know she has family. And you deserve a familial bond."

This just reminded him too much of certain people who had kept him in the dark for eleven years. He didn't have true familial bonds, but there were people - like Remus - who could have approached him yet chose not to. They had made up, of course, but it had remained a sore point with him. At least Oriana's caretakers seemed to love her.

"Now go," he glared at her and removed the charm before giving her a small push. She scowled at the push, but began walking hesitantly towards Oriana, growing more confident with each step she took. Near the end, she was almost running in order to have her first proper conversation with her sister.

In a rare moment of sentimentality, he smiled as he watched their reunions. A smile that quickly became strained when he became aware of a rapid scratching sound. He turned to see Grunt clawing desperately through his armor, a look of intense concentration in his eyes.

"Grunt," Harry sighed wearily, "Is there any reason why you're trying to tear off the armor plates around your groin region?"

"Armor plate broke, and a lot of blood is pooled down there right now," Grunt growled as he continued his efforts, "Really uncomfortable when it starts clumping up in there, y'know?"

Krogans could survive being ejected in space right? His migraine demanded retribution.

* * *

**Well, there you have it. I can't really bring myself to apologize for the delay, since I was not in the mental state to write anything for the longest time. I did write whenever the mood struck me, so I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Next one will hopefully be released a little quicker.**

**Review if you liked it! Hearing what you guys have to say really gives me a boost when it comes to writing. The reviews I got between the last chapter and this one were the reason I managed those short bursts of writing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on where this is going. Now that the reveal has been made, I will begin diverging significantly from canon starting with the very next chapter.**

**Till next time,**

**ShoredKafka.**


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